He stands within someone’s dream;
It cannot be his own,
For he is awake and chanting.
The square is full; people watch,
Distracted,
As he starts to speak.
They listen as if his words
Were under water
Trapped in tangled weeds.
He sees the words in air,
And cannot question
His own clarity.
Without hope of redemption,
He sees what he sees.
(August 22, 2017)
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