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works: anjila wilson

Let me wander all day with this craving.
My mind wanders around, thinking, endless thinking.
From street to street. Darkness to darkness.
I feel this little ball of energy,
Is this what’s in me?
I take my eyes down below lethes skies.
I wish to feel, not think.

I feel the miles of history underneath my feet.
I hear Lethe demanding to be explored.

The concrete I walk become flowing rivers.
These marks, people leave behind become the beauty marks of our past.
The lines become scars.
The layers become history, revealing its self once more.

As if the veins of a living organism.