at trying to control the beast inside me.
I must cool it with the Breathe of the Earth.
Only by bringing(inhaling) in the new
and expelling(exhaling) the old,
whilst never fully letting-go (taking what was necessary),
can anything(one) ever hope to change.....
I take all of my words for
granted. I think about them
so little, I forget that I am
always unaware of their
m e a n i n g.
And they always mean
something different, meaning
even this will mean something diffferent (soon).
And just like my Breathe,
all Thoughts must begin to leave, as
soon as they have entered. It is a joyous
Occasion when one can cradle the beginning
and end of a Thought, like a child, head to foot.
Many a time, if I wish to convey something, I must
constantly re-run the Thought to myself, hoping it doesn't
run away....or change its face.
What was never is, what is never was...
The circle becomes the line,
and the line becomes a road.
To the end it goes, and back
to the beginning I am thrown.
What is, isn't ever there for long,
but long enough to know it is gone...
To hold a moment...I'll never know what It Is.
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