Wandering from shore to shore
in my mind,
Each emotion is an island,
and this does make me wayworn.
The distance between these things,
well, it escapes me.
I feel omnipresent in this plane,
and yet touching nowhere at the same.
Reason, like the sun,
becomes incipient on the horizon,
a glowing hope,
when, alas, I had thought there none.
Shall I treat this quixotic course,
of emotional clambering,
with true import?
Or shall I stay reticent?
Perhaps at the end of the day,
when my weary mind does protest,
I can give in,
and venerate my life's lesson.
Yet,
In the end of this turmoil,
this sea of endless confusion,
has left me islands still,
And tomorrow I know I will begin again.
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