He's there right now. Isn't he?
Even as I wave the white flag in chat form
He's standing right there
Having a good laugh at me
Hoping he could see my last bid
The sound of a song
The last breath of a dying dream resonating in the autumn air
Its intensity decaying with time until it can barely be heard
or even remembered
The silence is overwhelmed by a new sound
Laughter
Even in defeat, I dream that they are laughing at me
But that's just silly... the last twitches of a dying mind
I know better
Where would they find the time?
I like that one. I think that time is something I have in great abundance at the moment... I would trade some of that away for some more scarce commodities.
Lately, I've been getting a few visitors to this blog from google searches. Who knew that poems about Holiness would be popular? I never would have guessed. Welcome. Peace out.
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