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World of dust
What if every soul has no where to go?
What if when we die our souls take flight?
What if they take the form of something we hurt or killed before?
What if the next time round your killer is you or the other way round?
What if that wasp that stung you has a soul too?
What if before we go we must feel the pain of all we don’t let grow?
What if the clouds in some future sky form in the blink of an eye to tell tales of you and I?
What if it’s all connected through and through?
What if those rain drops contain something of you and the moon and the sun knew where we all begun and they’re laughing at us spinning our insanities on a world of dust?
Copyright ©
A Yorkshire Poet
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