Zennie
Bluelighter
It's ever constantly churning little feet carry me through little glimpses, blurred thoughts and visions.
beginnings, beginnings, beginnings.
Death and life lived in solitude across the street, silently wishing good morning on the contended neighbor.
Limbs and fingers reach down, carressing and shadowing the metal carcas below.
Little churning feet pull me through and past. Playful tongues lap at the traveller, sailing to and from his destiny.
Pull me forth, sparks of light forcing me forward. Leave, but begin again, circular, linear, but always a beginning.
Licks of color descending down. Each its own, yet lovingly entangle into each other. Darkness. No.
Just a beginning.
It falters. I respond, get up and out and into the beginning.
[This message has been edited by Zennie (edited 28 November 2000).]
[This message has been edited by Zennie (edited 28 November 2000).]
beginnings, beginnings, beginnings.
Death and life lived in solitude across the street, silently wishing good morning on the contended neighbor.
Limbs and fingers reach down, carressing and shadowing the metal carcas below.
Little churning feet pull me through and past. Playful tongues lap at the traveller, sailing to and from his destiny.
Pull me forth, sparks of light forcing me forward. Leave, but begin again, circular, linear, but always a beginning.
Licks of color descending down. Each its own, yet lovingly entangle into each other. Darkness. No.
Just a beginning.
It falters. I respond, get up and out and into the beginning.
[This message has been edited by Zennie (edited 28 November 2000).]
[This message has been edited by Zennie (edited 28 November 2000).]
