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make me a witness to the dreams that seep into our reality. what does it mean? what is real in this frantic place that upends lives and sabotages cultures waiting to be reborn into self? they’ve become the lost ones who have forgotten their way back. back. back. back to The Way. it was in a place called Then, far removed from Now and the false time we worship as though it were a god. distorted dreams pave the way through fog covered roads. make me a witness. i will be your memory.

© zaji, 2016