Netfound poetics

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I came across this while investigating the local tribe out here in Seattle.

In deep appreciation of those who shine…
…I raise high my glass of wine.

A patient smile can win you kin from strangers who have walked the mile to join the game. You tame the troubled, drifting hearts who wonder at the omniscient sifting. Cold lifting as the spring winds blow clouds to sun and sun to rain and rain to pleasant daytime pollen. Brown leaves whisper the names of the fallen.

I bow lower each moment the circle grows.

Who knows when the weaves will link and mind will mark the pass of time, reflecting on the craft of cosmic rhyme that brought us here to clear and climb.


Posted: March 31, 2007


Category: Weird



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