inkslinger at the medusa cascade

the hour is getting late

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i am a human being. i'm not very good at it sometimes.

if i had any sense
i guess i'd fear this
i guess i'd keep it down
so no one would hear this
i guess i'd shut my mouth
and rethink a minute
but i can't shut it now
'cuz there's something in it

the road goes ever on and on
down from the door where it began.
now far ahead the road has gone,
and i must follow, if i can,
pursuing it with eager feet,
until it joins some larger way
where many paths and errands meet.
and whither then? I cannot say.

There's coffee in that nebula!