|
Post by AquarianM on Oct 7, 2004 20:57:46 GMT -5
It's a sad sickness these days, The thousands and thousands of messages, A never ending litany of fear and fire, The flames of the Beast must be stamped out, And I'm hopping upon e-mail after e-mail, Dancing like a clown in too-small shoes.
In every place I look the Beast seems to be raging.
Slowly I'm coming to realize, Some subtle understanding of change behind my eyes, In the analysis of near poetic standstill, I've come to a state of crisis, Barely able to lift my hand to dip pen in ink, Let alone delisciously stroke the page.
In every place I look the beast seems to be raging.
What the soul says is the answer is hard to believe, It's wispy and willowy and ephemeral and electric, It's a dance of the merger of physics and spirit, Some might call it even shamanistic, In every place I look the Beast seems to be raging, Until I look inside my heart.
Defuse the state of crisis,
I refuse to be a lonely heart.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford (C) 10/07/2004
Author's Comments: KNOW the Beast will lose. KNOW that Spirit will win. JOIN in.
|
|
|
Post by Solace512 on Oct 12, 2004 16:19:45 GMT -5
lovely piece. You are right, the spirit will win.
|
|