Ricochet
How do I reach for something unreachable.
When guardian angels are tangled in harps of silent strings.
There are billions grasping in this same darkness.
In the blackest corner of the furthest stars.
What happened to all the dreams?
Of the ancients and the unborn beings.
Floating helpless in the endless ink.
Of an endless eight ball ricochet.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2018
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