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We wish on time
we hope from a reality, a concept
we structured
and devised
We must make sense of our environment,
as children wish on birthday candles,
time, age, fire,
their own ability to force the flame
from the wick
Shooting stars are unfathomable
a misnomer, wishing
upon a science beyond common immensity
and so children, 
as we did in the past, 
make it magical
and it is primitive
We grow into adults
we become more civilized and wish
upon time
not simply time, but a fixed moment
displayed upon our own mechanical invention
hoping for a manifestation
of our desires
sourced from our own creation
with a mystical ability
to do for us
something it was never intended 
to do
for the fact alone
while desperate for resolve 
we ceaselessly search
for things
to believe in

This poem was written in response to the prompt “making a wish at 11:11 (and whatnot)” Thanks Ashley @justbishop for the idea!

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