Old Self

Old Self by Robert Basilisk

You might think traveling to

a distant land conducive to

writing poetry; both being drugs.

You find yourself lost

in the same old world

(5 walls, 1 invisible)

always known, yet

different as in a dream

just before you awake

teetering on some brink?

of some thing wholly strange

and new and of course

by the time you find

what you wanted it is only

to return home

to yourself and the way

you were before.

(Photo by Lance. Me, in a cave, playing in the dirt, in Utah)

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