one must get lost,
wander lustful
glossed over…
a forgotten lotus
sensitive
to the hot breath
of critical bluster,
blast from the shadow dragon…
one must be blessed
by the foul smell.
Add years of irritation,
lest one pass through life
without lustre…
an unpolished stone glistens
beneath water, sunbeam...
tumbled by motion
seeking rest.
My surface shimmers.
Aging is a lasting lustration
lest I meet my maker
naked,
and without polish.
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