Here, rubber trainers against the asphalt
at five past dark in mused September,
dragging suitcase under the starry vault
that heaven crafted ere I remember,
and flickered still in time, exceeding me,
age eighteen, clasping the strands marked child,
desperately old, wishing my age free
but sensing my soul as forever wild,
and feeling this was man’s adminicle:
living in the light under numbered days;
and knew that I had reached a pinnacle
since I accepted this in a halfway phase.
My hours sandgrains in an hourglass case,
My brief life merely a liminal space.
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