Third Walk of Life Equals One

Thrice I walked in this life
the line of light.

First I sought refuge in a place without.
Second I cared doubly less, without a doubt.

Rose colored glasses and
long walks down short piers,
thank-you, good-bye, nice try.

Third is my walk now,
the line of light.

Attached down through the spine,
around the waist the whole time.

Once, twice, thrice, all equal one.
No fight, no flight, no run.

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