Hairy hands, broadly Built blacksmith, craftsman, barrel Chested, devoted Husband to Laura. Of the Tuatha de Danaan. All was green forest. “Patience,” he counsels. “For
Lord, I am your servant. I pray that all I receive today would be friendly, encouraging, and would help me to be better. I pray
Overcome I amBuoyed up in a current ofMagnetism, I Tingle with its force.So much, I struggle to holdMy feet on the ground. Shuttles forward andBackward
All of this happened Before, will happen again. I see the writing On the wall. It says, “You might as well enjoy it.” I embrace
An arrow across The abyss struck my heart and I caught on fire.
This Poem is a Lie
Never were true words Spoken. What is manifest Is illusion. The Real poem is so Indescribably perfect, Just imagine it.
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