Ooze

Hot_metalwork

It’s time to leave
A distant promise

Holding thoughts of-
What there was

Clinging not to-
Traces…

What there was-
It merely was

A candle though in awe
I see fire, searing sun

Our meeting place was-
The cobweb

Interwoven threads
Of one

It shrinks right now
It fades

Drooping in the skies
‘We sag’ you say, we hang

We float in flowy matter
One touch, we fly away

It’s real though
Is it not?

The promise of-
The touch.

It burns though
Does it not?

Oozing fires-
Of the sun.

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