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Strands of Fog

I haven’t written in a bit,

Yet life continues to live.

I flow with life’s current,

Rolling through the fog.


Drifting with a loss,

With only a short time to pause.

But stop and stared as I may,

The picture floats away,


So the time has come to sit and think,

To prospect, enjoy, and laugh,

As you have such pretty things; they can leave you

In a gasp.


My thoughts that I offer,

Are just some strands,

A few ideas.

To think on, and to ponder.


Yet the cycle begs again,

Consuming my current entity,

For now, the strains hold me here,

And soon I shall be no longer.


But form again, these strands weave in

Currents flow throughout me.

Sometimes I try to change the past,

And the current ripples around me.


So as I stay,

Inside my place,

Grasping the strings of this idea,

That currently works beyond me.


Good times come and good times go,

The currents are ever-changing.

As I fix on a point,

Suddenly it changes around me.


So at last, I gasp,

As I sit still and real.

Reflecting on all I’ve seen,

The picture shows its path.

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