where light divides voice from echo

My followers

were just borrowers

of good lies.

Seekers of shade.

Of where light

divides voice from echo.



On ambiguity

we built towers to sustain

watch like cowards

for the coming rain.



Then, boarded up,

we could remember

why we erected this rut

to begin with:

to lay claim to nothing

so long as

nothing lay claim

to us.

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