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Thursday, February 24, 2011

#55 Perceives?

With a brushless brush
I paint my picture
Colorless and clear
Nothing to clutter the view

So vivid, I move closer
And fall right through
Into the reality I see
The cult of the real

The grass is certainly greener
Over here on the other side
So what they say is true
Even though the truth is hazy

Shucked shoes
Toes curled
In the soft grass underfoot
A stream beckons with it's wet sounds

Clothes slip to the ground
The cool water surrounds me
Lying uncaring on the rocky bottom
Eyes close, world ends

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