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“You won’t find me…. I exist on this plane only,
I’m here, intangible, invisible, untraceable.
Beyond, in the real world, I cease to exist,
Seek not, for even memory will turn to dust.

A zephyr carrying with it, the scent of intrigue,
And a grain of mystery, a petal of poetry…
That’s all I came to give, and that’s all that will be given,
No other promises, no other requests.

There may be no face, there may be a thousand,
Don’t wonder, don’t ponder,
Partake in the here and now!
For isn’t that, what really matters…

No, you won’t find me,
Out there, perchance we meet face to face,
You might shy away, or recoil in disgust,
Seek not, for even memory will turn to dust.”


6 thoughts on “Incognito.

  1. Such poignant poetry…..what evoked such a sentiment? And no, given a glimmer of a chance, one might seek to pursue…if only to unravel such mystery, if that’s even possible.


      1. I hear you. And yes, given how the search sometimes yields unsatisfactory (?) finds, perhaps simply living in the moment is often the better option :-). Still…how we get wistful, sometimes….


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