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In 100, by Wyatt on November 8, 2019 at 1:39 pm

Back home. Drenched in it.
Cultivating one reality costs another.
Both cannot be held simultaneously.
Pendulums swing one way first.
They pause. Then they return.

These words are already old.
Even as I write them.
Pen in hand. Sipping chamomile.
None of it is static.

Yesterday’s mind is already gone.
Perfect! A fresh mind today.
Continuity is a sweet adaptation.
A new day, never done.
The only one like it.
It will never happen again.

So glide, my pendulum. Venture.
The world vibrates. Dance along.
Gently sometimes. Sadly other times.
Hopefully, most often with joy.

Be a flash of lightning.

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