Wednesday, July 27, 2016

The knife, in hand.

I take the knife,
In hand, to scrape.

This, then the layers.
To peel them back.

T'is it, an onion,
This thing,
This feeling,
This longing, and regret.

t'is it now, read/red,
Or always been.

This pain, comes forth?

This to suffer.
At our hands?

The ones,
He luved.

To cleans this now,
This now comes forth.

To bring new life,
This now the game.

Renew it now,
With fire and ice.

To come again,
This now the choice.

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I love to collect thoughts. I would love to collect some of yours, if they are mindful and respectable.