Away from all the outbursts
Of ideas and thoughts,
Right or wrong,
You will find me on the horizon.
Where the sun surrenders
Laying barefoot on the dewy grass,
As my sky turns orange to black,
Waiting for the chaotic world to go to sleep.
Find me, if you will.
That's where our barefoot souls
can feel the grass breathing alive,
And where nothing else will matter.
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