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Every guide knows only one way.
Every road takes all directions.
Even in death a man who sets out to find himself
has already lost his way.
All the dreams
my father had before he died,
do they live on with the rain
and drift quietly to the sea
or do they belong
entirely to moonlight now?
Copyright 2018 Louie Skipper. From The Work Ethic of the Common Fly (Settlement House, 2018)