Come to me,


when the wants grow bigger,

seize the functionality of your being,

you would return and feed on my ‘givings’,

givings I so generously distribute,

depleting my reservoirs,

the ones I’ve locked away,

in a room full of bounties,

bounties that are for your taking,

with which I so merrily part,



all yours….

for when I cease to exist,

my soul becomes you,

erasing all the distinctions.

I may not be an actual story,

but my soul wanders,

as your shadow,

in past,


and future.


Who could find pleasure in taking,

when giving away becomes a habit.

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