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Mysterious to the bonafide

The floodgates have opened.
rushing through the hairline fracture
at the first crack, first sense of freedom
at the sight of an inspiration desired.

The floodgates have opened,
ofsentences, ofwords, ofimages, of
scenes transformed, from
my mind to yours

The floodgates have opened,
with the critic dead
on my shoulder, leaving me running
through grasslands, a blithe spirit, an expanse
of my arms, gathering the
widespread, my feet a foot
above the ground, and the wind
kissing my ears.

The floodgates have opened,
transforming, the mysterious into
the bonafide, a dream to a
legitimate touch, realizing
those glances
of undetected emotions, those
hidden words
behind eye-lids, a feeling
accomplished, an entirety,
of your world and mine,
of your future and mine,
weaving all that’s gone by, to lay it all out
for the yet to come.

Oh yes, the floodgates have opened,
rushing myself out of me,
with closed eyes, I am
ready to see.


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