Monday, November 27, 2006

Last man standing

The hand of time sweeps the earth, nights lantern slowly flickers to a fulgent moon..the way of the stars stir a hushed night born blue sky, like star studded blue dress. I see the fire fly dance as she is lifted by the soft breath of a living night in the hallway of cold november month. No door or window opens to this world. Its right here and I'm standing in the middle of it. Yet we feel shelterless and seeking.

Do you hear whispers in the night or stare endlessly in to the distant horizon? So tangible yet absolute, all that connects me to this world is this breath I take. Inbetween there is just the unknown.

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