Agenda's of the Journey
Dust dominates the horizon,
Seldom to the season have I withered under the morning star?
The bridge of hope stands firm today,
My chest fills with air!
The path cracks, gash, wounded over time,
If I was to have know the outcome,
I would prefer to journey the bottom of the sea,
Yet,
She inflames the currents,
Thrusting back waves on a raft,
Against the ocean, against the outcome, under the morning star,
She causes my face to invade with a smile
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