and one lifts my heart
into the weighing pan opposite hunger...
Peace and war. Am I asking too much? Childhood dreams, youthful ambitions, the bridge from then to now to something great, feeding the forward inertia: to the day when the streets are mine, when the prize has been won, when the dusk keeps itself dimming towards perpetual thrill, lighted glory; when every bright window's secret is known.
Floating beneath my dreams
I crave the firm ground
to fly again
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