Hackneyed Narratives
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Feuille d'Or
Hackneyed narratives no longer speak to me.
I now prefer more nuanced, abstract ways.
From the perspective of a surrealist,
Heaven seems like a smear of bleached light.
No prayers have ever merged into glory
Not one. We keep on sending them up
They rise like smoke signals into nebulous skies
In time, the wind will blows away our footprints.
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