i think to how my dreams were shaped to perfection,
specified with architectural precision;
life's without its sense of forward march, and in time's blank stillness
burns this concept absence seeks to mold.
our plans are forged in the furthest hearth,
with towering flames our hopes are formed.
with beauty unspoken, from ground it grows,
an ardent helix:
hardened, solidified, and unperturbed.
wrought with passion and fanned by peace,
ecstatic to find a that which it leads to
some joyful penetration of the tacit reply,
as is the god's mutter against the blank of the sky.
but when unravels helix, to wondered dust,
the future reminds us of how it's defined;
separate from that it leaves behind.
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