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dangers of imagination

empty spaces remain that –
empty –
as the night sky among city lights;
the star’s light has never been so dim.

beating echoing in blank rooms,
the road ahead so achingly long,
millions of doors slam open and shut –
a butterfly leaves your hand and turns into dust.

tampering with time
throws the mind into disarray;
all remaining is the fine dust of lost dreams,
and you are lost among the sands.

desert storms blinding even the strongest,
clarity is a lie when all remains is deception
and lies, the butterfly –
there is no way to see the sky –

the imagination is desert’s lover,
intertwining in beautiful hearts embrace;
their child breaks dignity and grace,
remaining is loss and empty space.

the oasis shimmers slightly,
waters inviting, taunting,
rainbow colors drinking down parched throats,
you grab —

your hand passes through —

and the butterfly falls from thirst,
the desert women survive,
and your mind pulls you deeper
into the unyielding hold of desert sands.


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