domingo, 27 de febrero de 2011

in a muddle

unable to concentrate. unable to finish. do not feel like am on the right course, this muddle breaks through all things that make me up,  like high tide's even advance over the whole beach.

outside of  me,
if my thoughts could be tangible and all of what is me
my entire past and present soul- all the intangible parts
could be visible.

so me represented by everything not face, body, hair, voice......
(the ungroomed version,  the never seen parts)

would that extraordinary muddle be beautiful? like a tangled ball of windblown grasses blown into a circle
or bashed and ground sea glass, whose sharp edges gone changes from trash to something pebblish
and urges the hand down to touch, bring closer for a look.

please let it be so.
let this stress be annealing.

athiest's prayer.

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