Paradise Yet To Come

HunterandHuntedHunterandHunted Posts: 140
edited October 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Meeting the flame - a tampered-with mirage of yesterday.
Words come fast and loose - spilt drinks serve to confuse -
Purpose and thought become swept away,
Left to reiterate the day-to-day.

Meeting the prize in a pre-prepared frame of lies,
Belied by the feeling in those eyes,
And so to realise that the real eyes lie behind those lies,
For a moment - a glimpse of truth - not forgotten - not lost.

Only if, the moment when, the day that...
Tortured memories, torches held aloft,
Consolation in confidence, crucifixion in isolation,
A fixed decision - the day awaits.
What do you call 3 sheep tied together in the middle of Wales? - A Leisure Centre.
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