Ambivalent egg-
Head way out there, suspended
In your inner sanctum, why so
Tilting brightly? One might wonder,
Somewhat nonsensically, of course,
You might be reflecting
On the light that’s not
Yours to begin with, and how
Your bang-up saga might end—
Sunny side up or scrambled
With heady green cheese and deviled
Portions of furtive darkling whimpers soon
To be wasting away in a mooning
Sea of sublimated tranquility.
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