One
By gerrybell
Mon, 20 Mar 2006
- 485 reads
Strikingly simple and still fortune's fan
A contrast so sudden; my illusion of man
is bleary, fainting, starkly remaining
Our appropriateness is vast and sharply containing
To surf the heights; to greet the free
He grinds the edges and makes greatness of me
So take my hand and leap on your whim
Lead me to break out on this, or to him
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