Saturday, March 21, 2009

Always Dream

Fields of thinking,folded onto nights of dreamy eyes
the hue of open mind revealed, conceal from view by twisted word.
Cryptic strings that flow in line of inky clue, running fast,
past our soul to fill the pits and wells of wanting thought
Gently caught the words return,as hearts and minds meld and mingle true

Past, future, present reached, a point of single spun,
unclouded frames of thought reaching in to touch.
The hand of fated fire burns the field of empty view,
holding fast to narrow shafts of angry thought,
piercing holes in nets of grand design, falling past, the last door home
time reversed we start again, an empty heart with which to stain.

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