Sunday, January 28, 2018

Paths

You are like a feather.
Just floating through time.
Many centuries pass.
With no clock to wind.

Demons hear every thought.
Speak in silent word.
Blind eyes see you coming, 
but my sight is blurred.

Time is quick, I must go.
We will meet one day.
On your world, or in mine?
Time will only say.

3-30-2001


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