Poem for a Friday
Different every day the sun is,
Light and shadow as well.
When mosquito and fly bites,
nothing just new under the sunshine.
And little it was, acoustic
interference, it is. The ones,
chaos, ideas, mass of meaning.
Finally, you know the one it
couldn't mean anything, and
doesn't matter. Littleness is.
Therefore, still, we are we.
Indeed, I'm learning of you're right.
4/8
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