into me, the wind blows, pushing me
into the next dimension where life is
but but a fraction of the time we have
allowed ourselves earlier... a forceful
wind that has no bounds or limitations,
manipulated by unseen forces in the
backs of minds hooked together like
netowrking computers... a wind whose
dimension match not our own with no
matching reference points from which
can pinpoint our location, as if justifying
a reason not to retun home... a wind
that lashes around us like ropes, trying
Ulysses to the mast as his ship ventured
past the sirens, never to be seen or heard
of again until the poem was written...
a wind that solors the imagination and
prevents from becoming too bold in
their pronounciation or foreign words,
a campaign of indulgences seldom
addressed until now as the wind pushes
into oblivion and offers no returan at all.
April 1, 2023
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