Saturday, February 21, 2015

my poetry always goes a bit mystical when i miss a pill

           3,2,1, no dimension
time, i think
in the final analysis is
like a stained glass window
both inside and outside a church
upon which
can be seen every deed ever 
done  and then some :after
a long while admiring,
and touching up our
little  portion,  we
get back inside and
ride the light

©Peter A. Greene 2015

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