The thousand-mile wind of Li Bai
Is the thousand-generation storm
Of humanity. We, ourselves, have no idea
What we, ourselves, have been doing,
Have been becoming. The stars that spun
Our destinies once are now irrelevant.
The light over the mountains is the end
Of anything we could embrace as a wan
Reflection. Don’t fall in; don’t embrace.
The future’s a simulation of who you knew.
It’s not the moon. It’s not you.
It’s not even a face.
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