Sunday, July 29, 2012

As of yet-Untitled



Light,
Early and late
Combs out the trees.

Something, not fate,
Turns the keys,
And your state

Finds its freedom.
Now, to relate,
Creates.

(The metaphor 
Of metaphor's 
just bait.)


A little more
Uncomplicate,
Then wait.

Preserve what
Believes last,
And tell plain.

The Truth's
In the Space,
Not the frame.






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