This is a short poem I found ten years ago crumpled on the floor of the library at my high school. I never found out who the poet was, whether it was classmate or if someone had simply copied down a more well-known poet. But I often refer to this few lines when I’m lacking inspiration.

The sun slowly smoldering

He waits

As the moon drips across the sand

He prays

After the cracked dry clouds blanket the sky

He dances

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