There comes a point where, sallow eyes…we gaze into the stare of that which shifts us to stone.
We calmly peer onward , seeing all that lies beyond . Yet, we bide… motionless.
Every inch of our mortal part, un-favored to any outside sense or sensibility.
The ability to palpate and be touched, elapsed in the construct of time…emptied of any human likeness.
A suspended narcosis…fed by the alms to love.
The hearth of a world, void of the stretch of human action, reflection.
Such states without form, yet rigid nonetheless…are moments in perpetuating time.
Bequeathed of the true earth, to sight us of our cracks…
Lest we forget the gaze is fleeting.
Furlong once and only, in the farness we let it become.
Yet fragile as we are,
so shall the fractures effectively break us…
as we gaze into the eyes of life, nearest
Yet, on the threshold of true feeling
I see things (… …)
If there was one
I won’t change my mind
Whatever you know
Whatever you do
Before they have ever (…)
Tell them to stop
Falling off their throne
Before they have (fallen in)
Wherever you go
Whatever I do
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