Poetry

If we were a map

We drift.

We wave.

We high five

those we always see

those we’ve never met

those we’ve met but don’t see

those we’ve seen around but don’t know until we meet.

We wonder how many times

our lines have crossed

in the chaotic waterfall that drowns everything,

focused on the X that marks the path

but not life.

We steady.

We beckon.

We say our goodbyes.

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