the root aches for the sky
and earth sought, by those who fly
the tears run away from the eye
and lovers part ways without a sigh
…
no one knows where home is anymore
where they come from, or where they arrive
neither anchored nor adrift
the globe rotates and clocks vaporize
…
the poet sits still while seeking around
an island wet, in a sea that’s dry
where all that he lost can still be found
where a beloved waits, and hopes reside
-adee
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