Thursday 7 January 2010

SHARP SHAPES.

We stand together,
But the shape we make
Does not conform
To the space society leaves us.
We hold forever,
And the time we take
Is not in awe
Of eternity and its seasons.

We circle around
Our holy place
Without a care
Of how we appear to be.
We cross the ground
At our own pace
And always bear
The rate of our speed.

We touch the face
Of unknown things
Moreover sure
Of what all others fear.
We fair embrace
What flows and stings
And well endure
The torrent of the years.

We draw our fate
From no one’s book
And leave our will
For people to apply,
As its probate
And bold outlook
Should neatly fill
The holes they occupy.

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