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Searching for meaning
March 21, 2023
The waves lap against the rocky shore.
Tree branches scatter the sunlight.
Leaves crackle along the Autumn floor,
And I run with no goal in sight.
There is nothing I run from,
Nothing I run towards.
I only run to the beat of a drum
That is not there.
My feet stop moving beneath me,
But I keep running
In a limbo from which I am not free.
Stopping would be unbecoming.
When I will be satisfied, I do not know
But there are miles more to go.
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