The Wanderer From The Blue

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It was but a prelude, 

an initiation into the void. 
It went on and on and on, 
all it could reach was the void.
There was no looking back, 
intuition was but mired. 
It was but the Cali’ Girl, 
free way to one-way winey cells. 
Bleak yet glamorous, 
puffs, perfumes, giggles 
Hopeless but mesmerizing 
captivating, captivating 
Oh, yes it was but a poetry, 
with infinite stanzas.
All rhetoric and grandeur, 
an endless reading of the void. 
A poetry that mothered, 
all the endless prose. 
An yearning that silenced, 
all the rational threads. 
Too finite to not know, 
Too dear to not love. 
Too close to not yearn, 
The Wanderer from the Blue!

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