we scramble lost
to our own intentions
but I am here
where I want to be
an eternal twilight
on a tree-crested lake
and all the bullshit
of God's world
slipping by and fading
like the illusions they are
how I love those mere seconds
when I am absent
and I am the twilight
the leaves and the lake...
Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment