Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

each night’s end
he tucked his head
beneath his wing,
asked one question
of the darkness over head—

God, he asked,
have I done today
what you sent me
here to do
?

have I lived this day
as all my days
were intended
to be lived
?

then, each night’s end,
hearing nary a word of response said,
he’d ride the answering silence into sleep,

restless and dreamless.

I’m not in the Matrix. I AM the Matrix.

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