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My friends leave the room


My friends leave the room,
taking daylight with them,
along with the moon and stars.
The onset of an illness makes me
morbid, not dangerous.
In my trance-like state,
I care for nothing.
What led me away from
wisdom’s eight strong pillars?
Will giving you the symptoms
of my illness point me to a cure?

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 

NOTE: This poem is almost entirely the product of my imagination. Any resemblances to my own life are purely coincidental.
 
 
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