Sunday, August 05, 2007
it's a dreamy wakefulness,
but like a butterfly she flits,
drifting in and out,
the doors of thoughts.
the line between thoughts,
and dreams.
between judgements
and perceptions.
so thin you wonder,
'was it my imagination?'
the silvery threads of doubt,
play upon heartstrings.
a white void,
a soundless noise.
i'm taking it all in,
these little things i see.
--Merci tout le monde--
1:30:00 AM