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Image for the poem No Mad

No Mad


Rain drops into ripple
over the surfaces of accumulation
looking glasses in crystal,
crystalline in the membrane formation:

Memory
of
my

Mind,

I remember a time
of purity,

Purely divine

Lost to the machine,
lost to time

This time.

This machine,
it is powered by a usurped dream

Vibrating
in the memories of drops of rain

That preserve
the signatures of our former statures

Our divine natures
in
elevated

Ascension.

Here’s the thing.

It is our kin,
humans of human kind

Who comprise the gears
of this machine.

Is this something sad?

I feel nothing.

No.

I am not mad.
Written by Cipher_O (WarlordoftheWrittenWord)
Published
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