literature

Puzzle Craft

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Literature Text

Nothing is real but the birds and me
On my rock before sunrise,
Smoking my herbal remedy
To ease the burden of the unreal.

I’m thinking that my experiences are self-created
Pushing me to learn something I already know,
That the deep me knows I need to learn -
Cross boundaries and smash through walls.

I’m the puzzle crafter,
I’ve seen the complete picture
But I have to break it to pieces
Before I can put it back together.
I don't know what's real.
Published:
© 2014 - 2021 themagpiepoet
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