an ordinary day

By | 26 July 2009

and tell me;
how we're
going
to breathe,
in a hallelujah
of blue trees;
go past
in a righteous
gaze, when
even with a
silent song
playing
in one's
veins,
something
approaching
a throb,
historians
cannot
be certain
of the
ephemeral
stuff?

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