Lost, am I not?
In the avalanche of eternity?
In the box of river and my moon,
the box, wrapped in cellophane and salty memories, haven't we seen it before?
Did we not decide, where to meet among the jungles and the deserts?
Again?
Did we not talk on the bridge on how we will dance, together, on a forgotten number? Or have we not spoken at all?
Did you not ask for once, how will I grow? like a Crop of winter? Small, steady, tasty? Or have I forgotten how to farm?
And when I was locked in the storeroom of salty dust and rust, wasn't it you, who opened the skylight? Or have I just slept inside?
Were you even there?
Don't we all spend the eternity with every other person we feel? Or is it just me? Locked in the store room beneath the dust and rust and river and moon,
Mistaking cellophane with skylight!
And in the avalanche of eternity, lost, are you not?
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