To Stop. To Fly

To think, To sleep, To dream
Then to flutter away heartbeats for the sport
Of hope, To breathe, To stop.

There comes a weariness
with filling time
with bare hope
planning and projecting
some desirable outcome;

stuffing moments
that run over time
A shame how
beats pass by while pining
weary

To feel, To cry, To chuckle
off the harshest perhaps dullest beats
only to pounce, to fly.

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