Thursday, November 15, 2012

Day 320/366

The holy shrine-
Perfectly scented
Of lavender and lime.

With his head in the universe,
The thinker thought,
The writer wrote,
Melancholy drops.

The goddess swam with crocodiles.
The scorpions, choked and fell.
The eagles pulling his eyes out.
The peaceful dove was dead.

You think that these days you couldn't get lost.
But you can.

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