***
Ragged edges
Of the moment,
Sudden flight,
Or vexing fault…
Rather certain as to die…
So keen and still alive…
That is true you just believe,
Don’t confuse with was… is… will…
You admit imagination,
Mind’s eye,
But soul’s version,
Be entirely elusive,
And attain your scope for bliss,
What is perfect is conclusive,
Runaway and silent breeze…
***
Believe
© Copyright: Тарнакина Анна Алексеева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107061500153
Свидетельство о публикации №107061500153
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