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One night I will dream of a cartography
Of days past in my life
Of immersion and silence
When there was time,
Always yet time.

The future came and went,
And so did I.

Yet still I persist
Smoldering in thirst and fear.

And so I will burn these maps,
For they are not my own.
These dreams - they are not even my own.

I will set fire to them
And plunge headlong into today
As if tomorrow it were my turn
To hang with the lost
Of days past.

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