The Calling

Deep within the seismographic enigma

the stigma of holographic weeping

keeping faith in the corner of the pantry

never to be seen or heard

never to know as another knows not

hot for the truth to disappear

sphere whipping round endlessly

going nowhere

shoving love in my back pocket

save it for a rainy day

and say those magic words

one last time

like a panther crouched to strike

might makes right

but wrong lasts forever.

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