“Either we are builders
Or we are nothing more than poets
And philosophers in coffee-shops”
And we look to each other
The moments slipping by
In thoughtful connections
And wasting away
Time immemorial
Until we are standing
Alone in the thickness
Of our doubt
Whizzed by birds
And bats
And bees
And allusions to fate
That we will never have
A fire and an instant
A spark and an eternity
And we are dying
Beneath the weight of our own dreams.
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