“Don’t rob yourself of what you’re feeling”

Said by a summer prophet after the gods had fallen and when we wandered lost in a haze of dandelions and evening.

I became what I am when the sun questioned me standing in the street, a plain boy on a back street who knew too much about how destiny could be faked. What did I understand about the love that was within me? And how could I weave these thrills of wind and sky into something I could use?

“It never works that way” I’d say, “it will never work that way again”. When we had found our place, where the seasons sweetly surrendered, one to another, I whispered all of the old formulas: myths fell in the shadows, days passed and it was no longer the time when I could ask the heavens for the meaning of all the words.

I then sang for a sacrifice… and what did I do but ignore his breath, gasping sapphire, smoke and little hint of surrender…”don’t rob yourself…”

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