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poetry by D.e.e.L

and the black sky opens up
and there i am
sitting beside the journal
unopened

ideas flowing
just as the flow of water in the pond
a flow forced by man
not will

a day ends with blank pages
thoughts of regret
a day spent doing what must be done
but not what needs to be

and the mind
now unclear
questions
calls out for something to be said
before eyes are willing to shut

and so the poet writes
and so the poet sleeps
and so the poet fills a page

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