SoulReserve

Nazca

These roads beneath my feet
are like the lines on my hand
meaningless and vague;
(without a way to you)

We are, not oceans apart
but this land
has grown hills
barren and dusty,
sprouted an endless stretch
between us,
sprung winds that will
us to stay afar,
and we shall never meet
that is just destined.

© SoulReserve 2016

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