Deep in the Distance,
A breathing being.
Unseen.

In between extremes,
the masses meet midnight,
clean and fresh that new moonlight.

The severed sheep,
clinging to certainty.



Ink bleeds
on the pages
of our history
text books.

Needing Freedom from the forbearances of our families.
Our Fame is a famine of spirit.
The breaking bread
is fought over.

                                 We can win                                 
over uneaten wheat
only we are unaware

THAT

We can weaken
ourselves until we are
                                                   one wrecked union.                                                   
                         

In the future, we may see we were a sad joke.

A Divine Comedy.

Miracles are
babies born
With love in their hearts.

-and the sun shines still, 
as we question why we slay each other-

So where do we go?

When the winter wind
blows a blizzard in,
And we are shaking
to the marrow.

Insomnia,
a squeezing forehead
As I strain to listen
to tomorrow.

The clock sings a song of forward marching movement.
My living lungs, producing and directing.
A plane? A train? Something moving in the distance.


Pt. 2: Click Here
 

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