Day One Hundred and Fifteen-The Rub By Chaos To be… Inadequate, insufficient, latitudes off the mark stretched out in languid repose, ledger clear of all debt in acts too intimate for anything but memory… Not to be… A day for a lifetime reborn, minutes to move mountains, restore the masterpiece, no grade too steep, no distance far… …Who ever truly gives all? To sleep… universal anti-agapic, balm to more than physical exhaustion, no need to fear what dreams may come, time outside of space, cocooned in sweet oblivion… To dream… Synapses free to fire at will, no need to reason the rhyme. Random thought roams impossible landscapes, undeterred by petty laws of gravity or logic, no returns to diminish until the waking hour… …and there’s the rub…
Posted on: Thu, 18 Jul 2013 13:06:47 +0000
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