Vanishing points appear

A black stream as long as the nightingale’s song.
Whose home has been rearranged?
Who swims now in the shallow?
Inside the pulsating pride of regret.
Choices on the riverbed, washed over in time.
Forget me nots falling out of love and out of the sky.
Catching you in spider webs and safety nets.
Nothing could save you from death.
From the doubt that you built as your shelter.
Smashed by the rains of immortality.
How could your soul grow in unhealed hands?
Pebbled and black like the stream that forever flows.
Around the bend, leading to a sea.
Trickling into time.

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