The Spore

And so long we've dreamt of loving time,

Of reveling in its bitter bite. Of

Opening your eyes in the hour you rise

And it lavishing you in its passing. 


And so begins the search for your spore.

A mere thought or sight that exerts the mind 

You've spent the darkness crying for.


But some may try to mar their time

In a respite from its very self.

But there's beauty in this tiresome act

Because you will always find company,

And that is the greatest escape of them all.


Be wary of the quiet sobriety that looms

For you may rue that monotonous standard,

Especially proceeding the sweetness of hedonism.

It will return, you can be sure.


So in the cold of those moments

Will you face yourself true?

Dive deep into your recess

And return from your core,

The heading of your spore.

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