Imgormiel
Part of the furniture
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2004
- Messages
- 4,372
Rhythms
Springtime and its melodies.
Snowdrops dripping from branches.
Water to the ground and streams.
All a life cycle in another man’s dreams.
Now people move to another time.
What is yours...was mine.
The importance of motion.
For that work must be done.
Some stop before they have began.
The people’s consumption of the human autobahn.
A destination must be chosen.
No. Substance.
Not even knowing where each other has come from.
Some don’t leave their houses – ever.
Subscribers of the information highway.
The undoing knowledge and power thing.
Now where is nature’s humanity?
Does it procure me? Does it procure you?
One rhythm, one time.
Gone and lost to us all is the end.
Gone. Lost to us all, left only with pretence.