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Fantasy

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The boards are still,
As is the small, worn bed beneath me.
A dull light swings gently
Above me,
As a thick breeze rolls in
From the outside summer,
The great warm glow
Of August not currently familiar to me
In the ventilated room.
In the distance I hear a child,
Excited,
In play.
I’m excited.
In my mind I see
An ancient garden
Where the trees are made of
Stones
And there is a strange
Loneliness.
There is beauty
Surrounding me,
Surrounding everything
But I do not feel
The comfort of intelligent
Life,
And my eyes glaze over
With great indifference
As I see the horizon
Fill with dancing
Horned creatures,
Their fur glistening wildly
In the late sunlight.
And then they vanish
Just as quickly as they appeared and
I remember there are things
That must be done.



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