Things Time Will Devour

Wandering has lost its power
Yet that seems to be all I cite
As I write things that time will devour

There stands a watcher at full height
I drop my eyes, shoulder my shadow
I am unwilling to explain tonight

One might think me callow
Shrouded in written pleasantry
But this is only a canto

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We live in a secret autocracy
No one will ever notice
Such an outright fallacy

No such solace
Will be found in such coldness