Four Forty Two AM.

With silence
Eventually
Comes the question
Was that the end of the song
Or the end of the album?

No reference point
In the dark
Only a sense of passing
Fleeting minutes
Or a sweep of the hand

This journey
Mine only
All that I have been
And all that is yet to be
Collide in dreams

Past or future
Maybe another universe
Entirely
Secret messages
Of the heart

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