spinning
ever spinning
far outside of
one's control
like rule
at work
e'er grinning over
desolated holes
trenches in flowered or
warring fields for all we sow
the sum of breath
seasons change
but rule don't yield
in tireless pursuit of
death
shades across your
eyes at dawn
a metamorphosis
in times long
gone
amid the mapping of this
fiery world
where lovers bleed
and flags unfurl
it is no exception
but the unfortunate rule
that common folk must play the
fool
in the division of both
hearts and lands
across the abstract fields
sea, soul, and sands
lips on heart
the dawning day
it doesn't have to
e'er remain this way
beyond bones and skin
we are grace, not cruel
let a new idea in
be the exception, not the
rule
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