Past the hill

First draft

A land I once knew

I see it now, again,

soon will I forget it.

This ideal of opportunity

forsaken by fickle emotion

blocked from view by some foolish mountain of ignorance

invoked upon and by myself.

This land of the future

this dream I intermittently have,

so close at hand, so far from view.

It comes and goes, some chimerical fancy

where does it go when I can't recover it?

The End

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