The wind carries our voices away

across bleak lands soaked with trails of our blood

flowing from wounds we can’t feel

through numbness setting in, the sheer will

to cross over the horizon

and glimpse what lives beyond it

Yet we never draw near to it

only watch it warp with the rise and fall of the sun and moon

casting long shadows over oblivion—

the gated wall between us and worlds of soft splendor

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Photo by Dylan Thompson from Pexels