East of Eden

Love is east of eden,

Right of paradise—

And forces us to roam.

 

A vagabond stuck to form

Walks along silk roads

Aware it’s been done before.

 

“Haha, right?” at the taverns;

We eat aloneness—

Stick up a thumb, smile.

 

Backpedalling quiet routes,

Moving toward Eden in stride,

Just to chase the feeling.

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