Rob Taylor

Burdens of emptiness
Prowl through lapses
In my thoughts

Momentary splits
Which rip me from the
Vastness I chase

Confederates are few
On this sojourn and I
Hesitate with my trust

But there will be no
Less than the full
Measure of my fight

My ten senses are
Loyal as I no longer
Travel blindly

The recondite tenors
Are oft disguised
And lost in translation

The Irreducible Primary
© Rob Taylor, 2016

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