Saturday, September 1, 2007


when the light of the candle flickers in the night, illuminating the many images on the wall, enmeshed and imbued with an energy that overwhelms in it's warmth, directing it creatively, soothing the sou;, stimulating the grey matter, then with the warmth of an open log fire, playing with the shadows on the wall, as the giant nasturtiums stand aloof in their mini jungle, their leaves with open palms, outstretched in the cool night air, as their buds stand like colourful sentinels, directing traffic, while there bis a dull hum all around the senses, which are hushed into an expectant silence, where all that takes place, cuts to the bone, distending itself like a fat bloated carcass, felled on a dry savanna, reaching into the core of the soil and lulling it into a warm gentle submission, as the wind carefully caresses the thorn bushes, as the foliage works itself together in a wave of applause and it is in that moment, all is a possibility and everything is one.

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