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I Am Wont
Bodies which through eternal midnight glide,
Riding the tide to alien abodes,
Upon these cobblestones of foreign roads,
In jaunting flights of fancy I abide.
I am wont to think my beginning has an end.
Swallow swooping through the evening eaves,
Oblivion ash upon the damp air,
It grieves me to know the how and the where -
The why and the will that your course so weaves.
I am wont to think that ignorance is my friend.
Leaves clinging feebly to the bosom prong,
Rattling fingers of February’s clutch,
Rabbit terror huddling in my hutch,
I heed wide-eyed the lack of right and wrong.
I am wont to fear the opening of the door.
Omniscient of all matter near and far,
But for the clouds obscuring my mind’s eye,
Supplicating the indifferent sky,
I whisper unto a twinkling star.
I am wont to pray for pith at my atoms’ core.
~ Daniel F Mitchell
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