January 10, 2004

  • Round 2 - post-Work Rebound


    It’s not the darkness that scatters itself across my path.


    I’ve laughed and embraced the darkness for so long


    That it’s sick of the sight of me—can’t stand the fight in me


    And now does everything to stay out of my way.


     


    Nor is the cold the perforation crashing my party.


    The notion of diminished molecular motion in air, in space,


    Fuels my imagination to leap beyond such stations of desolation


    And tricks the flickers of my own inactivity into battle grace.


    The haunt of death is not what causes me pause.


    I’ve met that faerie numerous times on life’s path,


    Sometimes itself impaired and discarded in the gutter,


    I’ve nurtured it back to a vibrant upstart, oftentimes screaming “See ya later!”.


    So what is it that’s got me jacked,


    Turned upside into a make-me-neverminded state of whack?


    My synchronicity-lover, splendidus igneus, sol muliebris,


    Movens me atqui procul penitus.

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