On amber wings I have glided past the hills of my wondering, and I have broken through the horizon more than once, to come back hoary from the freeze of the void. I have stood still while the seasons traveled over me, while the years slipped quietly by, until this child’s shadow shrank into the nothingness of yesterday. By the river of time I have skipped stones across the waters: I named each of them before they sunk into the depths of all passing, slipped from my knowing beneath the Flow into time’s river bed, until they, too, forgot that they had ever been so free. But all of it: one day, I think, I must relearn to dream, for these myths that I concoct are too strong a brew for just one night’s sleep. I must climb down from the roof of the world, and watch the sunset from the shores of the imaginable — as heaven and earth meet for one solemn kiss.
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