Stranger Between Worlds

Drawn by the music to sway in the rhythm, desperately waiting for the bite.
Gravitated to the reclusiveness of the night.
Desert, city, anything in between.
I am late – always; constantly ahead of my time.
Yet never there.
Given: I am the impossible paradox,
the spring that came after autumn equinox.
Residing on thresholds,
I am the stranger between worlds.

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