It's not to be understood.
A hundred revelations, but all just
passing thoughts.
A hundred revelations; not one
a positive, solid reason.
A thousand thoughts, ideas,
excuses, self-told lies...
Nothing solidable.
Nothing trust-worthy.
It's a road leading to
a home.
Dark, empty, almost
deserted.
A sense someone is there,
but not identifiable or solid
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