POEMS OF MY GRANDMA WITH DEMENTIA #15/ Lifeless

LIFELESS.jpg

There are things without life

and they hide.

Do they walk?

Which hand moves them?

How is it that they throb?

They go far away,

dimension of oblivion,

distance frustration,

utility lost.

But one day,

the arcane will open

and we will find

the lost things.

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