No matter how fast I drive,
I can't escape from the grief.
it flies beside me as I travel;
it lies beside me when I sleep.
Grief is but one of the company of phantoms that dog me.
Grief is a golem I conjure with my own hands —
hands of desire,
ego of expectation.
The dark highway before me
will be washed clean by the deluge of my tears,
and a dawn of understanding will break over me.
(2027-07-03)
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