Dec 31, 2005

Time metamorphosis’s into a new character,
evading memory as its old self.

Becoming one with its fantasies,
riding in the eulogy of long forgotten saints
telling fables of historical woe.

Eyes swelling shut in casual distress,
setting off a chain reaction to the other functions to follow suit,
collapsing on the sofa with a great breath,
easily construed to be a heavy sigh.

Not a day goes by without that silent reminder,
the calm of thought
before a terrible deluge of exasperating self induced debate,
unperceivable to an onlooker who would move slightly away,
peering cautiously into a window,
eyes focused on the reflection of a man arguing complacently with self.

Ideas rearrange,
like a stranger contemplates the burden of responsibility.

A place without reason,
defined to me as a season of change.

The faces draw a picture,
graceful or hideous.
Interpretation is left to the higher senses.

Intuition breeds like complacency.