Found us chained to shadows of memory caves
in a skeletal present, which circles turn
Back to tombs of hopes and hull of fleeting craves.
Struck with one feather of winged love we still burn
In a flame of written poems on wisp
piles of sheets; on crinkled hearts we stepped with rhymes
and crossed dreams, danced whisk to lastly match crisp
stars; we untied words to ache through all times,
tamed wild horse lost on a fading horizon,
wrote the last sonnet line as the epitaph
to fly us freed to the belt of Orion;
For true love flees from bound crypts of fated death,
adorn us with new lives whilst we play the same roles
from past scripts and mirror gild of timeless souls.

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