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Poem 3 (Homeless Hero)

I went out,
Guided by the principle of
least action and a new God.

The homeless were sewn tightly
to the backs of my minds,

Some of them arrive
with a universe ready to articulate itself,
like picking at a scab.
Others build themselves up like a
lopsided cathedral,
Or a three legged dog.

When I was little,
Wisdom had told me
Every disaster, storm, or death is a
dance, a fête, a soirée.

I hope when you die you can still
recite the theorem from heart.
That you remember our dances through the halls,
and the quotes they wrote there.


That there exists some universe
where all of this is happening all at once
and no one can stop the trains of the future
from crashing into the trains of the past.
Written by DiaryoftheNow
Published
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