Friday, April 27, 2012
A Cross
There was a high probability that we were at our lowest point,
we had plateaued, as they say when they want to say things that get the point across,
across where, I do not know,
across plains that we always said we would run through if and when we had the time
but time is the one thing we never seemed to make do with
across the heavenly valley that I imagined you would be standing in when I, too, was old and no one's contemporary
across thin wired protruding between building that we one revered, once looked up to
but there is little to do now, save for looking down at this mess of ours
across the universe they told us was so magnificent,
where words were flowing out the way they said they would be
where things were more beautiful than my imagination,
which had always been the most beautiful,
before now,
when these reveries were more than many shades of grey
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