Fleeting Particles

Everyone is Poetry.
A tease,
I tease.
A story
Makes of me.

Everyone a song,
At the tip of my
Salvating tongue.

Everyone a fantasy
I build.
I mould.
And I lay out.

Everyone an orchestra.
And I the painter
With my baton
Drawing symphonies
across the skies.

Everyone a branch.
A possiblity
I let transpire.
Leaping from
A moment
To the next
As I write.

Everyone is. But a
Fleeting Particle
In my Story.

Staying as long
As the quill plays out.

Everyone a moment.

So I sojourn into pages
Of my creation
Till I am the sole author no more.

I wait.


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