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The Old Oracle

When I was young I knew
I would see the end of the world
I dreamed of houses sliding into the abyss
people screaming, falling through air.
And the stranger smiling at me as though he knew.

His words coiled up in smoke
'You are all reconstructions and you died
a long time ago.'
Trying too hard to shock me,
With some old comic book

By light hung on a red thorn
I turned away, read something else
And promised  to be
no watchman over the sea
But  blind as the white eyed moon.

No time was kept,
No preparation needed.
No visions redeemed the far thunder
The mirror of kind blindness clears and I
am not too frail to break my promise.

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