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—

, he asked,
?

?

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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