On this visit to my hometown, I was reminded of my last
visits as I walked across the River Green. The river looked like a huge sheet
of dirty green water while in my memory it was always a shiny green.
The last visits were on deaths; I never cried enough though
I was carrying a cross and stood brave among the wailing women. But this time,
though on a happy occasion, I felt the tears as they tumbled past on my return
journey.
What all things I cried for I have no clue, the wasted years
in search of a mirage, the lost opportunities, the life of strife and constant unpleasantness.
But it gave me clue to a puzzle: that you might become for me a mirage that I will
follow to destruction.
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