The here

Swords that sink in muddy water
are in no more steep undulation
than the clear stream that folds
all that is of no wet consequence.

Thus the independent sharp eye
sees a message in all that transpires:
it is the holy above that flutters
at the brink of understanding.




Poetry by Bob
Read 644 times
Written on 2009-06-11 at 23:34

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