the sun spills over the edges, painting me in all its hues
a growing red, fiery orange, and cascading yellow 
I’m inclined to believe I’d never be altered by any shades of blue
a serpent never enters, only the phantoms of my nostalgia’s hello

if a map existed, it would serve no direction
if a key could be acquired, it’s my acquisition only
an evergreen sprouts adjacent to the palm, no objection
a prophecy never fulfilled, shredded in bliss over the decade so slowly

sound baths of water on the bank engulf me entirely
the words epiphany, their origin my peace
mother time spinning a tale so tenderly
no eviction, no lease

so far and few in between
traipsed for one glimpse of relief 
only threw sense at a realm with no meaning
but on all hesitations, a key erected, trust forged on your belief
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