Poetry-3

Jason

So, the Returner, returns, with patience as sharp as the blade, time is certainly in his hands. He sees you, that the focus penetrates the skin, showing your life to him, through you. He is not alone and when their eyes meet, they both know they walk, the master unafraid of becoming the student. Today, he met a follow spirit walker and neither said anything to each other, for they know there is no urgency beyond the next footstep and strangely the paths often cross. The eyes and feet, they are weak and if saw bare, the walkers will surely spot each other, for what we see and where we go, how foolish to think those are in your control.

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