The mind is a traveller,
on an earnest quest apart,
link road to the innermost,
signpost for bold hunch,
meaning is a hazy sky,
lay-by as mere pause,
quietly we trudge in tight bands,
but never wonder why?
time doesn’t play that well,
showing few if any paths,
language can be strained,
notions, slants, angles, terms,
tangled oxymoron at risk,
stifling broad consensus,
world weary air...
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