Temple

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By Daniel Leitzen

The structure sat waiting
Shimmering portals ready for anything
A man centuries deep in obsolescence
Stood, weighing infinite options

It seemed like a straightforward enough affair
Take a leap, wait for rebirth
But hesitation became a solemn head
His walking stick was trembling
No amount of effort would steady the lawful left hand

One portal glowed more brightly than its peers
So the staff crawled closer
Turning into a backbone
And shoving a poor soul into eternity

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