I want to write an Old Song

I want to write an old song

so old that immediately after it’s finished

it’s clear that it doesn’t belong in the right now

 

so old only ghosts can hear it

 

so old the house I live in quietly recedes along with the street outside that leads to it

 

 

so old dead trees spring up and plants too

 

so old ancient beasts materialize

with gunk in their eyes

 

everything returning

like a hurricane operating in reverse

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