In the dark recess flitting about like a lazy fire fly.
A thought of words burns brightly flaring bright quietly.
Motes of ideas drift in the recesses of thoughtful halls.
Sounds of empty mindless things through the bastion calls.
The Silver sliver glints in the daylight of the opened door.
A smith glances at his handiwork and wistfuly wishes for more.
An echoe of the last themes of persistantance finally fade.
They are the graves of thoughts, dreams, and memories unmade.















Comments
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The woods are lovley, dark, and deep,
But I have my promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost
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"Truth is sharper then any two edged sword. Like such it cuts the careless."-J.R.P. We are, each of us angels with only one wing; and we can only fly by embracing one another.
Luciano de Crescenzo
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