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The Same

By RDFollendoreIII

Copyright (c) 2002 by RDFollendoreIII

 

Ice,

has carved out my soul.

I sometimes I think that I am going insane

when thoughts in my mind feel cold like winter rain,

so that the sounds I need most feel as false as the words 

from those funny ancient children's books of Dick and Jane.

Oh surely you must know that our crazy faith in the eternal flame

is just as empty as the hearts with most whom we once have lain.

We only exhale the thoughts of that which once served our words 

and that on each night's refrain feel the swell of wet tears welling, 

as though that distant star winkling might somehow place us

on the sharp limits of a black thorn to mankind's distain.

Only we few hear the echoes of the passing of time

and it is that sound of a lonely distant train.

It is that moment's focus of what we are 

or perhaps shall become which 

somewhere makes us exist 

in the losing of light 

and the passage of our pain.

For in this world it no longer matters

what you or I have done or what we will become.

It has all come to be about whom we or they chose to frame.

So whisper softly as the these seasons pass and weather patterns change,

such that the dense warm sea evolves the future fate of man and turns Earth 

into that most unhealthy and unnatural broth that nature can't tame.

Don't ask too much of me, for I must ask nothing more of fame.

There has been far too much so far for me to choose 

and so very very much for me to blame.

The way it feels for now

it doesn't matter,

for the 

alternatives 

seem pretty much the same.

 

 

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Copyright (c) 2001-2007 RDFollendoreIII All Rights Reserved