The ephemeral state of clouds.

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In the ephemeral hours of time
My thoughts are little bright photons
That end their lives on papers, on a screen
I myself I’m perhaps a single little light
A bright photon that comes from a thought
An unconscious dream dreamed by something 
That ends my life here on Earth
In the ephemeral hours of time
Perhaps all thoughts and dreams become us
They take the form of us, of everything that exists,
And compacted into one singular entity
We become Earth, one breathing unit
And then, that recurrence of thoughts and dreams
For ourselves we think and dream and imagine
Things and dreams that become alive
To become ephemeral things again.

Nothing interesting happened today; my mind was unusually calm, I was way more serene than I was yesterday, apart the fact that this morning I was inspired to write this on-the-go poem, which was inspired by the sentence ‘in the ephemeral hours of time’, extracted from my freewriting session of yesterday. I’m posting this poem in the same rough way that I wrote it this morning in my notebook.

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