blathe_without_meaning pilgrim Cold November Rain falls Outside in the Pre-dawn Darkness The glow of the Screen Is the Candle I Write by Traffic Stirs Splashing It's Way To Another Day of Servitude Lives Reduced to the Legal Tender Hopefully the Rain will Slack With the Oncomming Light For my Car Is but a Bicycle (sans fenders) So The Damp will Surely Stripe my Back Simple Things for Simple Minds The Complexities of Creation I Allow to Wash Over Me Like a Tide Bouyed Up and Carried Along In The Flow of Events Forever Beyond Understanding Taking Time to Playfully Create Handling Those Things That Will Not Pass Unassisted Pondering The Vast Sea of Coincidence That Has Us All Bound Together This is a Blathe with No Meaning This is a Blathe with No Point Words that fall Here Do So at Their Own Bidding I Just felt the Need To Empty My Mind And this Red Page Will surely Hide The Blood No Sense in Talking About It We are All Just Victims Of Systems Beyond Our Control But I never thought of Myself As Anything Other than a Time-Tourist Witnessing a World's Unwinding Feeling the Click of the Rail Beneath the Steel Wheels As We Hurtle Down the Track With Newtonian Velocity Certain Only in the Knowledge That What Has Passed is Fixed in Amber Preserved Unchanging Holding The Static Charge I Scan The Onrushing Horizon Grey and Distant Always Beyond my Grasp Beconing Me Onward I Will One Day Find The Edge 021121 ... bespeckled I can't let go. I can't let myself set myself free. I have to spin in circles, chasing my tail, ending where I began, picking up where I left off. There's no way to detach myself from my familiar revolutions. I want to fly away! I want to stay right here inside the warmth, away from the rain, but I want to dive into the ocean and when I get so deep that I have no breath left, swim even deeper. But my love is too great, too deep, my head too sane, too rationaly, my thoughts to maniacal, too wrong, to ever do anything but choose between old and new, right and wrong, here and now, this and that. 030208 what's it to you? who go blather from