At night at times they shift in sync
like lovers dancing tango,
frenetic unison without purpose,
at least none known to me,
just movement to move,
soul windows with shutters shut,
darkness in the optic nerve halls,
no rod or cone sourcing images,
just flash and scatter of life
likeness,
the first lines for myriad tales,
no outside logic,
just inner sense and sound,
just reason in another world.
My world.
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