We used to talk of divine afflatus,
Now no more— dubious inspiration
Led us to the corruption of desire,
Turning each individual to Us —
A collective of alienation
Satisfied with cold ashes and out fire.
I will instead take to my red balloon
And, rising above all that troubles me,
Seeking what only I call destiny
In the apposite hours, late and soon.
The cold wind, hidden sun, and burning gas,
Earth turning to images as I pass,
Undoes the fears and tremors my being
Held too dear, as seeking loves believing.
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