We reach reach and finally become somewhere.
Our name dragged and aggravated by dirt.
We stand with filthy collars, naming history as we seen it.
The print will mollify new eyes.
But we were there. Our fingers
Tasting the present wholeheartedly.
We were there.
We saw transitions become a new mission
Eyes blind
Ears open for a shrewd listening
—Cam le


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This blog is about writing (poetry in particular) and random thoughts in a nutshell

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