Guest guest Posted May 31, 2006 Report Share Posted May 31, 2006 > > The wind is cold and I am perched on that mighty > bench, east west ranch, the bench is warm. >Insights fly by and I capture them in ink for you. > I wake up in terror sometimes, I have forgotten > friends oversea, the words I had, the knowedge that > gave me wings. > But the terror stays less and less as sinking in I > amness occurs : the > only abode. > No matter how much I understand, I still depend much > on this knowedge, > a memory of other places and poeple, states of > being, ideas.. > Truth is there when nothing hold the moment. > It is naked and its clear depth swallows the little > muddy spring that I am. > Staying in quietness, > I open my eyes to nothingness: > Now entering the most fragile, the most vulnerable, > the very exposed : > Unknown taking over or now offering myself to > unknown ? > > Patricia > > > > > En finir avec le spam? Mail vous offre la meilleure protection possible contre les messages non sollicités http://mail..fr Mail Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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