11.1.09

Thoughts

The Search

The moments dark and quiet
Pile fast into the mind
Drifting eyes and gestures
On a personal quest to find...the center.

The middle of a sentence
a riddle on a page
the letters make bold statements
you think you're at the age...to chose.

What ends up making music
Falling into step
Are pieces of the puzzle
I feel so inept at building

Paging through the memories
Things linger in the past
Moving toward the future
They're things that need to rest...but when?

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