Of New and Old

What if time moved as you did, a glare meant a pause in reality as you wished it, the sun doesn’t rise and perpetual night lingers, the moon enjoying a false throne, long enough to rewrite history

Yet you want rivers to flow, rain to fall, and snow to melt while you pray for exclusion from impermanence

Stay in your lane and face the wrath of lost potential. Till then, I have you my friends, though a pat, a pint or painful conversation

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