Rhythm of music
Fills the air
And invades the ears;
Eyes take in
Endless visions of angels
Floating through the streets.
Life lives;
Lives cascade.
Why then is the heart
Longing for something
That does not exist
Even as a shadow
Beyond the boundaries
Of desire?
Not even as a whisper
Within the realms
Of anxiety?
Is consciousness immortalizing
The pulse of
Solitude,
The severance of roots
To a life once known
For too long?
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