He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.
--Albert Einstein --

Friday, November 7, 2008


Out of a sun blue sky a drop of blood
like crimson irony on a clear pane of glass

the willow sways with the breath of clouds
and the seeds fall like slow motion snow

I've been here before like deja vu and death
with shaking hands I wipe sweat away

and continue on

Wicked music lashes my head and licks tears
tearing the skin off my soul with wicked string

the sun threatens to set but tarries there
just to see what lies around the next turn

and the path I'm on always leads there
the terminus of fools where I pause to grin

and continue on

A rock in my shoe bothers me more
every step I take in this dissolute direction

sweet stars won't shine through the fog
embrace the mist that enshrouds and blinds me

and procrastination slows my misanthropy
while I remember how to be human

and continue on

I wipe the bloody speck from my eye
seeing red loses its endearment quick

what does this vulture owe me but hunger
I can crack it's neck if I could catch it

and pain reminds me that I'm not free
sorrow tears my hull but I'll float away

and continue on


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