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Post by Dunstan Attard on Jun 13, 2007 0:01:25 GMT -5
christmas on the riverbed macchiato
polished by the sway of pine dreaming against the wind in the shape of crystal women who have just returned like a rumor from the sun of a nearby shore;
we are grown
that is why oil-lamps of cold flames continue wishing to reinvent the wandering star.
christmas of the stove of tepid voices walks no more through a storm that used to rage outside from our faith;
we no longer wait for shepherds to knock on our door with bags of peace restored
we may have rationalised peace as we unloaded childhood onto our memory.
hope lost the voice of silent warmth, hope relies on globalized overdose
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Post by Bobby Slais on Jul 4, 2007 7:32:39 GMT -5
Indeed!! Great statement about the evolution of our society and the hint that it is not a good change capared to how it used to be or how we were raised to believe this should be. Deep and meaningful read Dunstan, thanks! Enjoyed!
Bobby
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Post by robertrwoods on Jul 5, 2007 23:28:40 GMT -5
So many things are lost as the future marches on... things we may not have ever known or remember. Elegant style, wonderful ending.
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