the ones who see best do not use their eyes
to know the edges are both old and worn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise
nothing much changes under different skies
folk weak and tired remain cold and forlorn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes
the boldest cannot always claim the prize
not all who lose their shoes step on a thorn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise
it's not the power to rule and tyrannise
that leads to fury and to empty scorn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes
not every villain comes in sweet disguise
while even the most horrid still may mourn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise
there are but few who say their last goodbyes
and fewer still who have learned how to warn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
06 December 2007
no larger mercies
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