Monday, October 3

OVER CLIFF,WATER FALLS....

AN INTERNET MUSE.

Calling to ground from sky.
sounds like angels crying ,tears falling ,pity the rain, pity the rain,.


Again nothing is heard nothing is gained or lost past what we didnt know we shouldnt have had.

The beginning is somewhere past the middle of the end which way dosnt depend on the way we left or the path we cant walk for fear of falling..
poetry or prose, work of fiction that I know, fiction that I know.


spirt path-felt pen on paper, digital color 2004
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