One Quiet Morning

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One quiet morning
I took myself away from here
Then flung me far
Through the façade of today
Into the frontage of ‘morrow
There I found an old man
He stood aloof, musing
His eyes were wise, they glister
His delicate fingers
Were honey colored
He came across as one
Who’s threaded slippery ground and fell
Who’s waddled swamps and sunk, and
Rose and scaled mountains
He seems as who was forged
To be and live alone

On closer look
I found the man was me.

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