Friday, 8 January 2010


Let the implication wash through you
That there’s no indication we knew you,
As our memories have all been forsaken,
And for enemies we are now taken.

For it’s only the dawn that is pure,
Though the rest of the morning endures,
And the afternoon falls into ruin
As the day closes down for the moon.

Will our life entertain a brand new day?
Or is entropy well underway;
Fresh pages blown by the weather
Of stale images bound up together.

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