Wednesday, November 20, 2013



The cadence of a lullaby,
A smile of a fern,
Curious as a firefly
Prone one is to yearn.

A moment or a sliver,
Or a slice of time delivered.
Truth all bare, it shivers
Secrets new and old,
From a brook out surged a river,
Here it is, my soul behold.

An instant, a decision,
A self imposed incision.
I bleed truth, I bleed lies,
I birth moths and butterflies.

Within, beyond, the song has gone,
Off into the sunset.
I’ve bared my self, I bare my all,
For I is me, and not much more after all. 

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