races

i am floating within a dream;
boxes of memories,
compartmentalized and ordered….
i soar above and recall
all the feelings packed
into those little square spaces-
in, but not of, my soul remains
inexplicably connected to each
sorted row, where space and time
meet, where the interface explodes;
i am but a traveler, meandering
down and upon these dusty roads.
i am a fly that scurries in the autumnal winds
waiting for inevitability; fleeting such,
is the way of life-
this dream and i, creating boxes of time;
and i am not afraid of what’s to come-
for within these folds of order,
any race to be had, has already been won

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