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Sunday, January 11, 2004


   Unknown Musings of an Obsolete Typecast

Peace, though troubled, encompasses me at this time,
It is hard to fathom where it stems from,
Perhaps from neglected soul,
Or a restless one, finally at grips with its temporary confinement.
It is troubling, this level feeling of the heart,
Suddenly so lucid, as if in the eye of a storm.
I cannot comprehend the future, or ever hope to,
However, I do not and will never sit around
And wait for fate to find me!

Lucidity is fading now as fatigue overcomes my mental barriers,
A simple attack, merely a grinding down of the senses,
Rubbing the nervs this way and that,
Never gone and never there, almost like a shadow in the noon sun.
By sheer relentless attrition fatigue overcomes all,
Even the strongest fall to it's ruthless assault eventually.
Yet the midnight candle will not fade just yet,
In its heart it dreams of the frosted things,
The things which aren't real but aren't false either.
That truly is the heart of the frosted window,
And, thus the way stability can be maintaned.

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