Our past lives, it’s like Déjà vu

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They say past lives don’t exist
They aren’t real
We just need to hear about ourselves
It’s how we cope, just how we deal. We only exist until we don’t
DNA is why we’re “unique”
Horoscopes and the cosmos are for a mind that’s meek
We romanticize as shortcuts to answers we seek. Yet we hear great songs with our hearts
Before our ears
And every time a baby is born
Or a person dies
We shed tears. The clock never stops
even after years
Nostalgia creeps in
worse than our fears. You don’t stop getting deja vu
No matter how many nights we see the moon
It still has power in engulfing you
So plump, so bright
A big flashlight for the dark of night
The light at the end of the tunnel
A reminder of the suns return
A reason to look into the sky
A lighthouse for the nocturnal voyages. They say dreams are fragments of memory
But my dreams have shared destiny
And my friends have found rest in me
Through the idea of divinity
I’ve found the best in me. In every empty room
The wails and moans of a ghost can be heard
The remnants of yourself
Or another
Will always hurt
Until the next rebirth.

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8 comments on “Our past lives, it’s like Déjà vu”

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