Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Bad Poetry Alert

Such dreams are made of this.
A walk in a park.
Signs we cant see.
Its not romantic
but it is, as like as is.

A journey not too short
not too soon
Of the mind
and for the soul.

How can it be
when the pools we dance in are urban, sub urban
and yet we dance merrilly not wallowing
tomorrow strikes us its not mundane
but its here
here is my nirvana my soaring sea my glazial peak

thats because tomorrow is never with us today
and our future is tied into this.
One day we will be free and we will see
We will see clearly the exotic and quixotic hand in hand.

It lives in hope and will never die
just maybe subside and burn bright and subside and burn bright again and again
thats why I run for you, not with you

The trees
the concrete
the path not seen
the path most walked
a route not a destination.
to the end and the sea

musica poetica carl orf in the background
and no it does not make sense

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