I didn’t know it was fickle. I wasn’t seeking temporal;
I guess it was never truly forged with fire.
Overlapped stories, disconnected truths,
It’s easy to fall confused by unaccounted time.

And I ask myself – If lured blindly,
How does one know they’re surrounded by land mines?

I often trace back my steps but the laments become vapor.

Writers Note: I was just going with the flow here but it kind of became a prompt and I just stuck with it.

Image by: Sebastian Seck

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