Bursting lights strike fragile eyes,
spasmed lungs snap wish-filled air.
Rows of red, wrinkled feet
bunch sheets on stark-fenced beds.
Instinctive suckling
draws in the sustaining pap.
Blurred wisps slip softly
through light and dark.
Murmured calls of unknown syllables
seek understanding of unaware.
Whispered sounds of mystery,
are always wished, and always lost.
Thus "I" begins -- or ends.
2007-03-17
17:27:40
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2 answers
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asked by
Terry
7
in
Society & Culture
➔ Religion & Spirituality