Saturday, June 21, 2008

Filtered Rays of Light Streaming through a Stained Window

Cracks traverse the dirt stained floor as the light plays on a chair left unattended.
Outside the sun beats down on grass going brown from the dry summer.
A playground swing stirs in the face of a soft wind.
Inside, the people pray.

Pioneers of new art forms - fools are geniuses.

Things are good here. I perhaps overstated my case, but I believe it is a case worth stating. Perhaps I should just get a button or provide a link to an essay.

Here we go again
There beyond the shores of yesterdays dreams
Lies a world that the eyes of men has never seen

Would you mind if instead of talking I just take your hand?

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