No Repartee…

Should the question come

The answer would find me mute

For long have I teetered on the fragile cob-web I traverse..

Faces around smile or nod in their passing

All the while blind to the visions

I can see..

Living on the fringe

Between this and that


There dwells no explanation

And for certain none that I would give..

The churning of an abstract mind

Is purely how some were born

To live…

Copyright © Murrsma 2015


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