195

MY FUTURE IS NO LONGER YOUR FUTURE,

my future is wide and blank and massive,
kind of like my present, trapped in nature
where the snow conquers all but falls passive:
When it all melts, those great nymphs will regress
and settle at their pond, with quivering
banks and glittering ripples, and caress
their golden threads hellbent on delivering:
But don't deliver, my glorious nymphs!
I want to break my thread and patch my own
heart. Why can't I sit and gaze at the lymphs
that flow from those streams in which gods have flown?:
Can I make my own fate, read my own pact?
I'll save this sparse race from dying in tact.
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