Monday, March 22, 2010

A Song of Beauty







The river has neither a source nor end

From whence its flowing waters begin;

As destiny springs with neither promise of fate

Nor runs with reasons that hold spate

Against relative distances beyond reach

Or provide a base-time that will teach

That stepping into the dark waters of immersion

Will be an exquisite equivalence of cosmic inversion

Where sleep travels upon the trails of light

And a single thought envelops the night.





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