in the throng of human bodies
grinding their way toward
imagined Happiness, I stand
overwhelmed by how starkly
I burn
from the rest of the blur
the fire of Truth in me
making love with realities
the harshest of the most harsh
I am charred
from the inside out
like a charcoal stick leaving
dark lines on snow white pages
the way the moon writes poetry
in the dreaming mind
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