Ink
Becoming is like taking up
A crystal goblet full of purple ink
The stuff that begets hatters and rabbits
And curious oysters with bad endings in their cards
And drinking it down
Taking in all those not-yet thoughts
Those embryonic fantasies
Those epiphanies still wrapped in their silvers
And making them yours
Just yours
Just yours in their brilliance
In their ever-changing solace
And using them to change your stars.
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