Of End (day 1250)

My future is not to what end,
My future is of end that lacks in clarity.
For there shall be no tide
That leaves me jiggling in madness,
Clutching at the newly spent sands
Gathering about my consciousness.
Nor shall there be a whirlwind epoch
That holds in my madness
To set aside future battles
That crawl about my fingers
And draw my breath to an abrupt halt.

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