Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Through Form; Emptiness

In the broth of our Structure
There is a large square
Blistering our cupped hands;
Heaven on a slant of colored light.
Insomuch- a Fast to the Old Soul
Feeling the emptiness of each Crevene…
Cliffs that we called Reason;
A passage into our
Own mind.
Reciprocate the form.

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