The stars weep endlessly
with the thoughts that
are mine own;

Time, carry me gently,
sleeping in your arms,
for the thoughts that are mine
last naught forever;

Guided I am by my ponderings
and perish I would without them,
as long as I am, my thoughts shall be;

But now my thoughts
are closed no more,
and the gallery of stars laugh
as I become another...

by Sheri Walters

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