A head beneath a bridge
And feet buried under a stream,
A cold solemn isolation
Through an spectator orb.
Then the closed eyes talked
With fiery dilated pupils
And the Man was born
With a wayfaring ghost.
Is the Man awake?
Or is the Man not here?
The body in a brume,
Dark and weary.
The dead fox pass through
A rock and soil,
It stopped, and spoke to the Man:
"It is time to be the deer."
Tristan Calacal is a college student in the Philippines and is currently taking BS Accountancy. He's an aspiring writer and loves to write songs and poems. He's also an aspiring guitar player and hopes to be in a band someday.
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