we do those things which no one would think best
our dearest hopes and wishes can't be told
each wants a moment's laughter to be bold
and then to act before taking their rest
we venture forth from safety of the nest
into the marketplace where lives are sold
and spirit's only value is in gold
mistaking chance for some enormous test
we quickly learn the map's never the place
instead the mountains and the streams surprise
we claim a clement moment then we fall
onto the ground accepting there's no grace
but what we note with our own staring eyes
of the strange kingdoms far beyond the wall
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
11 December 2007
from field to fold
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