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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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