The compass showing a direction, lies on sea sand

Stay close to the walls,
-that way you won’t fall.
It’s all coming down;
crumbling to the ground.
The stars falling from their pockets,
photographs dying in their lockets,
all because we looked down.

Oft black earth is sacred and hidden,
Sunshine doesn’t go where it is forbidden-
But fallen stars land where they will,
lost photographs even better still,
and hope –
needs no compass.

Hold on, woman.
Hold on.

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