Released, set free, the past somehow only a mist in the distance. Why must we get our shovels and dig. Dig for that which should be forgotten.. Damn the devil wind that blows in turbulant storms not forcast. Who's evil rains do flood the fields, in turn also my heart. And now at long last. A sea to somehow part. In the name of god or in the name of man.Where truth somehow divided. Who's sum is like that of sand. Never counted, never ending, and never owned. For all has it's end and in it's end it's demise. Belonging to no one. For no one to own. What treasures can you save upon the ending of your life.And to who would they help.Certainly not the dead.Maybe a moarning wife.
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-09-17 06:54:23
Last Login: 05.24.12
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