"It feels as though I'm dreaming,
As if I cannot wake myself"
The words repeated nearly a year past,
They echo still in the distance.

I might still be in this trance,
If the love hadn't been wrung out,
Hung up to dry in the cold,
Where active zeal slowly dripped from the line.

It's beginning to warm again,
Come down from the line,
Retain that zeal that was lost
Before it disappears into the dry ground.

Are you dreaming up there?
Or dying?
Release yourself and come down,
Claim that which is yours.

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