POETRY
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The New Olympus in those Years in Rome.


It's been a while since I submerged myself in the waters of the past like this.

I am a traveller of time, and a ghost that doesn't exist, silently observing from the sidelines;
Watching your interactions, listening to your conversations, witnessing your kisses.
Nothing is new or different about this, just like countless protagonists before.

Though we are all unreal, we still feel.

There's no place for me among you, I lack nothing, yet a sense of loss prevails.
In the end, I'm just like you, a pair of fleeting shadow in the illusion, destined to fade away.

I'll continue to play the role, a ghost that doesn’t exist, as I've grown accustomed to,
Awaiting the days, weeks, months, when the pages turn, when you or I depart,

Once again, remaining outside of time's grasp.