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23 November 2012

Mysterious

Golden-Anvil

The three great mysteries

Life, love and death

Compass all

Our little knowledge

Borne like jewels

Is of no advantage

In the face of the unknown

Deep in the heart of the sun

The sound of tiny hammers

Beating on golden anvils

Forged in the fragility of being

Ring in a single wavering note

They are pounding out our lives

With the finest of intentions

In the hope we will survive 

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22 November 2012

A Little Blood

Rooftops_02

 

A little blood – well, what did you expect?

Every birth is an act of violence

Life is bloody, beautiful and short

At night we lay us down to rest

In the morning we shed our dreams

And take our place on the treadmill

The dreadful work begins again

Bloody ankles and deadly smiles

Men fall as the leaves fall

Each whittled into nothing

Unseen hands wielding a final blade

They are enfolded in black wings

And ferried across dark waters

Out into the nevermore

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