Sometimes
Sometimes you get close
to the waterhole,
to the fabric
of all that surrounds you,
the ongoing, feeding
all you can conceive.
Then it happens,
analogy
strikes you with déjà vu,
a sense of hurry.
You dive into the is,
desperately grasping at
all you recognize.
The future constantly
alludes you, runs ahead
of all intention,
fools you with almost.
The view.
Poetry by Bob
Read 622 times
Written on 2011-05-07 at 00:17
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by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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