November 22, 2004

Uninspired

Where is the spark
It used to fly around
Where-ever I stood or went
My body, my soul
Dressed in a suit of
Flaming desire

The places where I stood
Have become something
Not of this world
A story, a poem
My dreams were pure of
Passionate heart

Every day now
Once or twice spinning
Back the wheel of time
An icy, mat longing
Though inculpable, unwanted
Yet, strongly tearing me.


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