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Standing Alone

By Rob S. Rice

I stand and think at night, alone...
Of what seems right when on my own...
Old thoughts that seem forever new,
My own, my centaur's point of view.

Thoughts and sights, what do they mean?
Not of one world, but in between
What some would call, to say the least...
The world of man, the shape of beast.

In retrospective, though, I find
No easy answers in my mind.
No simple way to put the whole,
To codify my two-part soul.

No simple way to put the whole,
To codify my two-part soul.
What was it, now so long escaped...
That left my mind and heart reshaped

Into a thing that cannot be,
That has made half a horse of me.
The legends flow and run on by,
I can know 'that,' I can't know 'why.'

I stand still as the world moves.
My weight upon four phantom hooves.
What is this dream that has me caught?
What is this prison, made of thought?

And is this  all that's left of me--
Divided through eternity?
Or am I a whole combination.
Mixed for some unknown duration.
Two too few... Perhaps I think too readily in the way a centaur would...
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Submitted on
October 3, 2014
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