11/24/2012

Profusion.

I have to shut off.
I, for once thought it was blatant.
My moves.
The conduct of my presence around you.
As the usual, clasping and holding onto view of the pale cotton clouds floating free awaiting as the day dims.
When day turns to night, it never looks back.
The perimeter of our circle and our closed curve, I no longer hold on to.
The external boundary, I no longer follow.
Maybe soon reasons will appear coherent to you or seem palpable.
Now excuse me,
I shall no longer glide, hang, hover, waft, and sail on the same boat.

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