Runpad
The dream flowed on.
It was the deceitfullness of the day
Build, slapdash and slipshod
Over the dross of past. Surveyed
Counted, found wanting.
This dream of delicate mists
Thoughtless and beautifull
As they clung to the hills
And thus outshone their betters.
And yet, fragile as a promise kept
Beneath my wandering gaze
Oblivian bested
Them, they faded away.
Slipping through my fingers
A tide of dismay
Thoughtless and beautifull
As they flowed through
My insufficient grasp.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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