Thursday, March 13, 2008


One foot, one step, placed onto the heart
Leaves a wound not unlike
The hole in a sole
Worn through much wandering
Much seeking beneath the rustle
Of stirred branches or the turning night.
What have I found
That I found not seeking awareness
But the obliteration of heart and soul
Through travels, travails,
Wanderlust and loneliness
Those afflictions of my cursed mind

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