A Dot

When roads pray in solitude,
and the sky grants them with sunsets,
I crawl out of me,
I cry out of me,
I coo out of me.
What was to become of me?
What was to begin for me?
Where did my summer was to get high,
And imagine shades of bliss?
Bag full of bliss went on a parade,
Bag full of bliss waved in a frenzy,
Bag full of bliss baked a keen grin.

I dive out of me,
I drop out of me,
I diss out of me.
I am a dot,
I hunt red mornings,
and blue sunsets.
I hunt old wounds,
and make them terminal.
I hunt new worries,
and make them wounds.
I am a dot.

O’ whatever you are,
Make me pray in solitude,
Make me know,
What is to become of me.

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