October 24, 2009

Insanity

Wheelless is the chariot of broken thought
Akin to tomorrow’s rayless sun
That lies in the tepid waters of stagnation
So still and quiet the once chirping bird of thought that soars no more
But who has drunk of the cursed elixir of existence
And damned to wait in listless, turbulent anticipation
How the words come tumbling out of the still dusk
Enclosed in the shell of just being
How furiously they dive into the pitcher
And cross the “all too fine” line.

Written in 2006


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