Let me fill the dark side with the
light. A flightless night's sleep
deep in the land of dreams; needling
the seams of the fabric of spice and
thyme; Line A brought to B, or not
to B, but C; folding the distance,
and bringing me from land's ancient
day to the sky of tomorrows
tapestry.
My eyes may be blind and full of
pitch; yet for prescience they see.
Weaves of the individuals combining
hearts two by two; so sue we for
peace to replace the jihad.
And all is fleeting, all is vanity;
but for those moments that define
that part within us which loves,
and flaws perceptions of sanity.
[21:16|18.9.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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