Lost

The whole wide world feels hollow.
We trudge as in a trance,
those tracks that our forefathers
followed without a chance
to eye their lives and twist their fate
and get themselves in line
to test rare truths in vintages
like a rare old wine.
The wines have all gone stodgy,
the casks powdered within,
so we know not where we’re headed,
nor know where we have been.
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The Sunday Whirl Wordle 756 prompt words are: wide line self hollow rare track twist eye trance trudge powder empty. Image created with AI