Hollow

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I was haunted by the hollow of my hand
What is in it. Why
I was disfigured by the death in my eyes
Who died. Why
I was shattered by the quivering of my soul
How did it happen. Why
I was looking at the curve of my lips
Which way did they go. Why
I sat with myself once
I danced with myself once
I dreamed within myself once
Who was I supposed to be. Why

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The Birth and Death Of Dreams

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It is moments like these when dreams are created and are given birth to.

Moments of solitude. Moments of silence.

When you stare at the blue of the sky.

And you look into the depth of the sea.

Moments when the two blues meet–where the sky meets the sea.

Yes, dreams are made there and then.

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Alas!

It is moments like now when dreams die and are killed.

Moments of sorrow.

Moments of pain.

When the sky is black and the sea..

The sea is glittering darkness.

Where and when…the two blacks meet.

Yes, when tears run down your face.

There…there dreams fade away in your eyes.