Guest guest Posted July 12, 2006 Report Share Posted July 12, 2006 We will know the signs of a welcome home by the colours of love With which we are famously or euphemistically familiar, perhaps Warming up to own our seasons of discontent, We will know the scents of heaven By the memories we have cherished, perhaps even relinquished, extinguished. In the bliss and radiance of far reaching dreams, or dreams of dreams We will know the will to know as the omnipresent circumstance Dancing in the palms of our own hands, the ones We have raised in both great harm and innocence, of carefree association or Dissociation from the facts enacted, envisioned and ensconced or enshrined In the Images we have made of all things that pass away, as all things must. We are the initiators and imitators of life, living darkly in delineations of Choice less choices, we are happenstance unified and rectified by the seat Of our own pants, dragged into the iniquity and inquiry of how time flies When there are neither blue skies nor sodden footprints to follow, to guide Ourselves, horseless chariots still we fly. We are guileless and clueless, we are beyond approach or reproach and thus We have every chance in the book we are writing to become familiar with Our own text, to understand what we have written between the lines, in The margins to the left of awareness, and in the spaces of the " right " choices. We are ubiquitous, we are unadulterated, fashionable and primarily totally, Self-concerned and lie like hell, until the bottom falls out and we step back About 12 paces and reaffirm our non-entity status by first names, such as I Am................ YIL, Ana 7/12/06. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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