migrant

I am a point outside the curve
a migrant particle lost in infinity I hear voices I don't recognize perhaps they sing to me the welcome to a distant future where colors blend and golden leaves fall from the trees that are stripped whipped by the freezing wind there are no stars or sun the words unfold form free verses and freedom exults and the solitary particle, guided by the wind, goes to meet the voices taking with it the unspoken words the absence of sun does not bother it it enjoys the silence

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