muted

Standard

The transmigrations of my soul are muted

As I baptize myself in your movements small and large

I wonder as I wander

Quiet am I as I imbibe your imperfections

Plotting a steady course to you

Your every nuance your every generosity

Deserving only the best of what I can give

Meanwhile I feel the cusp of the end

When it stops

For whatever reason

I feel the ephemerality

And relish it

As the present moment becomes that much more

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