

Still, to finiteEvery foot print leaves impressions for the pastStill, to finite
So steep the steps, I shiver in the shadow that it casts
Aging eyes decide a path with least disintegration
Where innocents is lost in life in living celebrations
The worry, stressed, and anger filled are lonely in the light
We can fight the lines and lose some more or give them up to finite
--
The Milstead's Gallery
whats up?
[.k.]
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