An Unknown Goal

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The wind blows cold,
dead leaves and memories
in front of me.

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I want to retire
from the conflict of existence,
find subsistence in the ambrosia
of my deepest dreams.

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There can be no ease
from the tension of my being,
no respite from these visions.

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I am never at rest,
for my thoughts move continually
toward an unknown goal.

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10/10/1978