Closed eyes disguise parenthetical thoughts of what remains at the end of long roads.

All I can see is the darkness, inside eyelids.

I can almost see Mind drowning in fallen water.

Its smell permeates the air mixing with cedar trees,

half dead, alone, in a field far away.

Darkness illuminates my subtle surrounding and

I dig deep in the pavement to feel where it comes from.

But it’s useless to hope.

Nothing can be more clear than the infinite of those precious eyelids.

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