The many ifs take a morning shower ahead

Shadows that draw
their/lines/ dig profound
as if years could flow
or bank onto shores of yore
(whose face?/)

Mark routes
accordingly to sidewinding
wrinkles
in the background
African beats
Asia Claims too the drumbeat

.

We are to believe
theirs is ours
so are we told this day
those which
are not to are
as if they are: today
foreign experiences
whose old faces never see

.

Hours come & go
beating the ego
how precious moments
beat without meaning at all

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