Sunday, February 12, 2012



there is a notion that time exists
only within the folds of the brain
this material slice of reality perceived
dimensions sequence
times weave
me slipped through to be born
again listening too deeply to a dream
cutting through these bread slices of universe
bumping perspective
amoeboid grinding
roethke waking
stories captured by the cosmos
the surface tension of potential
glistens shifting shape on viewing

everything interacts

he is still here
they watch
she will be born
always is
and never was
a postulate
thinking makes it so
or so i like to believe

when the winds whisper at night
a friend's, a mother's
ghosts of thought
caressing the eaves to speak
my memories
reinforce the beliefs of the Cathars
and my fathers
still pierce the fabric of time
that disappears with sleep
and merging of all that ever was
and ever shall be

© nfhill, all rights reserved

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