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An Unknown Goal
​
The wind blows cold,
dead leaves and memories
in front of me.
​
I want to retire
from the conflict of existence,
find subsistence in the ambrosia
of my deepest dreams.
​
There can be no ease
from the tension of my being,
no respite from these visions.
​
I am never at rest,
for my thoughts move continually
toward an unknown goal.
​
10/10/1978
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