Monday, November 18, 2013

Just Before Midnight

Perhaps one day I will remain
fog and hidden behind that fence,
find (there is no sun, just
the fantasy of poor sight) (there is
no need for meaning when all
meaning is as elusive as
dancing with smoke) (there is no
road to follow, just the entropy
of place, of hand, of toes, of
life swirling like still eddies in a
frozen stream) the peace which
comes from not needing to
understand, to create a carapace
in which to transport purpose.

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