with a child of the past
nor sell your heart to
a memory
can you see?
will you live?
the great rushing
future
belongs to you!
can time be a friend
or must vision
shimmer like a vapour
silent, faded
withered up and dry,
cracked like a forgotten
boy's bones
alone and empty
among the old
men's tombs
on which the sun
casts a shadow
of yourself
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