Wednesday, April 29, 2009

We Can Get There If We Try

Tantric verbatim collides with silk doorknobs.
They weave through the carpet sparking brass truth.
Projecting subconciously around gold weather vanes.
Sonically breaking the suns flares towards white knives.
Not limiting the silver rain pouring over black lilies.
Leap frogging over diamond shaped clusters.
Illiuminating when touched by naysayers, looking down on giants.

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