Melancholy

In search of foundation,

That is not built upon quicksand,

Would go to the ends of the earth,

Would play hero if only the gates were opened.

Lost in a haze that never seems to cease,

listen to the voices that reside in the walls,

These never seem to offer the right encouragement,

Rather echoes of forgotten lights,

Sounds and those blue eyes that stare

out at me from the horizon. I crane my neck upwards,

towards the heavens, Make stars fall down to earth

if only to add them to the collection. 

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