I plan my life away,
Stumbling through your labyrinth,
Choking on the dust of dead authors
With their cornucopia of long-decomposed ideas
… with their stories, passions, and miss-understood dreams
Buried under the centuries
And I dig them up in the night
To be more like you
To understand you
I study our own humanity
As if, through feeble words I could…
As if a simple verse could teach me to breathe you
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