dreams, sweet dreams, visiting visions of times past, present and future, sights of scenery, of people long lost, last seen, missed dearly, dreams of that tangled web of life yarns coming together, woven together after being stretched thin, apart, with holes so big, so large, so ungainly, and the weaver continues to weave, to fabricate the life, and dreams of other weaves, and wonders how it all comes together
[about musings] ©1998-2023 [eric abando]
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