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THE ILLUSION OF PROGRESS
Thinking we were the first Only to find the feathers of our kind

UNSETTLED

We fly so quick, so high we cruise the bluest skies
Only to parch where we left, where we rose
Time moved ouelr wings incessantly unforgiving
The leaving was an exceeding promissory
We flipped our wings so highest, our wax melted
Thinking we were the first to virgin of promises
Only to find the feathers of our kind greetings us
So we’re at this highest heights
Looking downward of what progress has robbed
We see the tiny of our kinds, in practice to rise
Admiring the heights we are suddenly despising
We’re seeking to parch where they seek to rise
We are seeking the very nest we escaped from
In the very remotest of quiet and calm winds
We long the miracle of Dews of common places.
Where we are most home, most us and most alive.
Heights are good for adventure but where we parch is home!
The going of where you left is life’s paradox
The desire of poison and neglect of help must be sad

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