Gold rush.

Words, sifting through memories like this century’s gold rush.

Getting stuck, allowing their siblings to continue the journey.

Verbalizing intentions – magnificent, pure, innocent.

 

“Separate the good from the bad” – he said.

You will know when to stop – it will feel lighter.

 

Old fantasies – now reality. Old realities – all into dust.

Same heart, beating intensely – keeping track of sunsets.

Tracing the shadow of Today over the mountains.

 

“You’ve been here before. You’ll come back once more.” – he insisted.

Like burnt stars. Vanishing into darkness. Creating new galaxies.

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