I will never be the person you expect
because the darkness after day
wipes these foresaken eyes away
alongwith every novelty I come to accept

Tens of thousands of lifetimes
each a sun rising over a new kingdom
that floods its own strange lines
into some supposed freeing freedom

And everytime I pass this antecedent antiquity
I feel somewhere in me the days past dire
as tho wearing down all fragility
familiar to my flushing fire

When returned to me
my swollen emotion
will show and tell
a grown soul of fortuitous completion 
and then I will never be a person (again)
but a sliver in the umbra
that is to have loved
and been loved in return

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

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