By Arun Thomas via Pexels

grow up

if you
could grow younger

make tightropes
of pavement stones

and pilots
of the crows

ferrying their
secret intentions

back when myths
were the harbour for

this conscience
of blurry elaborations


you ask again
what I would trade
for a pocket world

not this

however it dims
and cloaks

the elf-touched trails
the cave of promises

dragged to
the mundane plane

to the necessities
of ordinary living

in the end
never this

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