Where there's turmoil,

I have withdrawn.

Turned away,

Shaken my sandals.

Choice is what I gave man,

Choice of life to the fullest

And choice of a wasteland.

Choice of being in my garden,


Choice of aimless wondering,


Reason , the enemy calls it reason.

Glitter ball, illusion

That man is as big as me.

Deflated, loud crash-landing.

Reality, reason is not of me,

For I am bigger,

Bigger than mountains.

My reality moves mountains.

Sylvie Croslard

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