4-23-93 In the reflection lies a dream.

There happened to be a happy time, when some hopes were buried in contentment.  You couldn't even estimate the boundaries, they stretched far beyond those cast glances.  Every time the same thing turned over, a less close happening began to charge out the gates of today.  Don't forget who wants to say what.  The way they speak has nothing to do with their reality. Pause.

Comfort comes from hands, yet is not merely hand-made.  Handmaid. Methodological.

    Above the summit, the clouds held,
    a small denogration of a whispy meld,
    beneath which swarmed a crowd,
    hovering near brinkish, though constantly loud.
    The evening was far away,
    the sun reigned high,
    Amongst the peaks do play,
    and come forth to greet the sky.
                                          This guy.