Poem One

Could there possibly be a little comfort in rage? You know – in the ineffable way you can’t explain on a page of black and white print. Not a hint of true meaning is conveyed by the signs, in themselves misconceptions they are far from perfection where emotion remains – one and the same. I’m beginning to think that they don’t live in the brain.

Feel it or not, the evidence is here, in and around and beyond all fear in the near or the distant past, there’s a peace and it lasts, forever.

 It severs the ropes that we tied to the mast and around ourselves in attempts to live,

Forgive the fool who know knows not what he does and listen to love

It’s a need and a must.

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