Thursday, October 29, 2009

Where walks this life?  As voices play only in one ear, as pen strikes pen, and buckler, sword, as time lays low the page, takes on the visitations we find, gives up the ghost, ties itself down to the once and only, it has and will have been and never was the past.  All things live on, whether in our hearts or in our lives.  There is no end to one and anything, and I am coming back again, whether in the day that comes or the day that does not.

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