AT dusk just when
the light is full
i feel a game:
there is a man,
i worry: somehwere
out there and windmills
so silent my Clock
dimly cries when i’m
not ‘there’ and ever night
i stand fully stripped
of all my own mind — i’ll
never sleep and The Wind sings
go to sleep lovely and since
is never i should completely weep
but i know ‘out there’
there’s a flower (MY OWN
HEART) at midsummer’s keen
beyond and at dust just
when the light is full i
feel a game, there is a man
i worry ||

:: 07-11-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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