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Songs have a scent like the sea has its hug,
when I acknowledge these feelings as anything but smug.
I watch my mood file through space like floating kettle mist,
but I can’t recall what it felt like before I was kissed…

You flit like particles that glide on the sun’s streaming rays,
preempting some very long nights and some of the hardest of days.
I’ve tripped on this sidewalk, I know I should cross over,
where nothing will change still about our differences–polar…

Riding this out doesn’t need to be like torture,
and I’m on my way to learning that there’s design beneath disorder.
Freedom comes to you when you learn to embrace your part,
and know that there is nothing wrong with seeing the world through your heart.

The cycles are unbalanced bubbling under heterogeneously,
which translates into this whim that is not taken seriously.
The clock ticks and will turn my time on a dime,
when the heart forgives itself for the gravity of its crime.

The force of renewal starts when you decide to unplug,
and hear the songs that have a scent like the sea has its hug.
Nothing is by chance in the melee of complicated bliss…
as our lives file through space like floating kettle mist.

THINGS© Dylan Balkind


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