now

a broken symmetry
the half-quotation mark
a question not yet asked
the moment taken out of context
nothing returns from whence it came
only an expansion outwards
remaining distinct or in dissolution
blending in time

now

torn from many directions
a flag is raised in surrender
a look of beige vacancy
passes between us
how would you color this cloth?
what emblem should it carry?
what is it’s motto?

the truth is what I choose it to be.
pure and simple.
Or,
just give up.
and hand over the flag.

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