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I have wandered for a hundred years. Each year, a word expressed. In a desert of hedges, I tie a white flag to each dead end.
I never revisit until I want to remember or perfect. Whenever I find the end, there will be sanctuary and rebirth.
A man will marvel enough to ask: I neither hear nor answer. Inside is too important, the answer not applicable.
Soon, a gap revealed – escape. Leave this ruin, sail upstream to another ruin. Therein, question marks I'll replace with white flags.
I'll ask him what they mean. He'll neither hear nor answer.

2 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn almost 7 years ago

    Very Borgian. Borgesian? Borgesish? Very good ;)

  • avatar

    Neil Ross almost 7 years ago

    Thanks...The Circular Ruin was to blame for this one. Trying to get into how compact and sparse Borges could be, but include my own idea.

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