Does the turning of a light mean that it faces another way?
When it's off, does it's shine remain?
Are shadows its children, memories, ghosts, or guardians?
Does it merely reflect the living or live on its own?
When it flickers and wanes, is it by chance, an extinguishing flame?
I wonder, is life forever a mystery, or is that too dark?
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Poesy and Prose
PoezjaContaining songs, dreams, poems, and prose, this is a collection of my inner-most ramblings. When I need to unwind, I write.
