Thursday, September 24, 2009

The running game

Is a stretch of possibilities

Everything I see
Is but a caption of such stream

So if you look around
You’ll see somethings go up
Somethings go down

But no part can hold the flow
What some call greater force
Is that all is set to be

This Pulse is sustained
And drives Everything
Regardless of what they think about it

No one has to think
To eventually go to bed
Or to wake up the next day

This is done all on its own
Our conscious mind has little clue
That if you go deep
You lose your name

This speck of thought

And ice cubes melt to liquid
Once more

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