Truly A Finite World


The rainbows are falling above the lands
and the fingers of earth comb through the clouds.
I drift through the book of memories,
the hills and valleys never ending.
Once in a while
sharp daggers pierce my bones
but sort feathers of happiness aid in comfort.
Beautiful majestic darkness starts enveloping each soul.
Staining white cartons of pure milk on the rise.
An everyday idea turns poisonous, reaching the point of malignancy.
The mind obsesses and perfects the
thought.
One can blame inception,someone has infected me with this incurable
disease.
A Disease? Why not a gift.
A concentration impossible of penetration.
Distraction, what is such a thing?
Only the weak and feeble mind can hold
oppressed and"normal" thoughts.
Always fraying from the source.
Cut the cords, but keep the fences.
The walls have been replaced, but invisible hands bound them to
prison.

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