Counted days.

I come to conclude

with ambivalence and bliss,

an agnostic ride rode,

I might miss but never diss.

A kinship might have bloomed

thankful enough not loomed.

I imply tacitly in my quotation,

“If you wish, in my potation,

mingle your own little devotion.”

Crux fathomed, I know not,

such corny, little silly plots!

Flooding innumerable bookfell,

with exchange of word

parts of us we revealed;

A Passover, unfounded

that in air dwelled..

With myriad castle brewed,

Of scents, moon and maze.

Setting it on fire, ablaze,

I dazed with passive gaze.

Preenly waiting for, one day

oblivious, it melted away


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