Friday, April 9, 2010
lucid
The lines on the wall run down his face&angle up the ceiling.The dent in the door;the forehead more flat than feeling.One day he saw the end to the beginning.The angel traveled far to break his heart&feed him the scroll.He is the prisoner in us all lest you ever forget.By loving deeds my freedom set;beyond the bars now&in the trees yet wind shall blow.I am held fast deep below.
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