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Needle In The Hay

Staring at my own reflection starting to see through eyes that have been opened


I can almost remember every thought as they drift by in the stream flowing into


All things mysteriously as they arrive they disappear as quick sand in the desert red


From eyes bled, black is the night when life turns the hourglass, spinning atop the


Diamond, far after and right, just before, left to the dances to kick up dirt again


It is raining like it did back then, it is just that, the glass is keeping the sound in check


O how it is I am going deaf, blinded by my own design, tapping away on the desk


It is but a side table without a lamp, a lamp with out a terrarium, the cross I found


Was from a fairy home, the cross she found, from somewhere I don't know, I could


Surmise, I can only guess at things floating by & by, I could only believe for a moment


Then when all things drifting down the stream made sense, them leaves are sharp from


The tree, things crawling out of the hollow beneath, black darker than night it seems


That would be the last lie I wrote, Alchemy, it was just for a second then a minute just


Captivated in the reflection of the hollow of a tree, roots deep, I said to myself, in that


Writhing, dying thing was the thought a ugly fear, I could have stood there forever a star


Sinking deep into nothingness like a spark, ignites the forest of my burning home, is it


What you want to know, the breaking point, is it just before, is it just after, stretched


The black dragon in the lawn at a friends, the dragon wings in the temple, the mermaid


Lying again, where is it deep within the story of all of time called Whom, I wasn't even


Listening to the rain settling it then, just to make a puddle to reflect oft in, split the take


Away messages, I doubt I ever wrote a thing that wasn't stolen from a song playing


Repeatedly, I doubt for a moment the centre of the mind for the jewel glowing lightly


Dost it fall then or dost it shine, what it is to magnify a lense, just to pinpoint a wing



"I left it there for you to find," as the reflections in the mind flicker like the candle flame



One and the same, repeatedly, I find myself captivated in the glare of the mass glowing


For the black reflection of the hollow of a tree filled almost to the overflowing brink with


Ink squirming like space collapsing, from one to a thousand shining reflections of light


From the source standing by, what it could be then, what it is to discover yourself bent


Out of shape by the oscillating thoughts kept between all things repeating I, the sound


From the hand held out above the vast expanse of nothingness, standing above it, the


Precipice, four winds it felt like, letting the hive grow to an uncontrollable force of nature


And sitting there, just a few steps away, the day after saying, I wouldn't get stung by a


Wasp the size of a bee, it is most interesting now the things one thinks about, hardly


Noticed then, and less understood then most things drifting by in the stream of Life


The hour glass flips, the diamond, things hardly seen that must be believed, set in place


On the other side, without trying, without asking then, that twenty man in the hands of a


Dweller at the threshold of Death, he said it best when he captured a cartoon at school.

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