On Rust Color Days

Rust color days wave at me with a frankincense wind.

Releasing me of all my human sin.

Splinters of tranquility…not bright…not dark or dim.

Holding me in a wild grasp like pools of water in a broken cup.

Time is boundless…rust 2

Travel is padded with the ever-changing moss.

All is hostage on rust color days.

There is no camouflaging thought, at any cost.

On rust color days.

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