The Center of Forever
Asunder in the wonders camouflaged by blunders lie the intricacies and
maddened pleas of a people desperate under thunder. They hide the tide
beneath the guise of cries that rise in eyes of lies. But not before the
something more that taught the whole lot in the mythical war, of love
and hate and whispered lore a passage of that open door, leading to the
something more, that always something more. Until we find it, and we bind
it, in the chance that fate did wind it, to be longer than forever, in
the clock’s face of facing never, so we give the chance it will live to
dance into eternity and stay there, yes we ask with silent pleas “Oh Please”
to stay there. Until the mess is less than what we believed was blessed
and turns the eyes to rest on a world outside our emptied nest. So we
ride and take aside, the once hidden notion of tide, as it ebbs and as
it lies, we pretend to never mind, until the cries exceed our lies and
somehow turn our eyes, back to the center of forever, where once we’d
wished to stay. And so we end where we began, to ni portend or to pretend,
we know any more than we open doors, and return to more fateful days.
And in the opinion of my library… I should get out more.
Dana writes because if she stopped, she might cease to exist. Her drug
of choice? Adventure! She thanks God everyday for her superhuman powers
and loves to hang out at headquarters with all her superfriends. In between
working on writing the best thing that will ever be written, she plots
the way she may forever escape the daily tedium of survival and write
full time. Until then, she has devoted her free time and backyard to her
word sanctuary where pieces wounded by red pen and harsh criticism are
nursed back onto her pages. She is sorry that Tom Robbins is married,
Jeff Buckley is dead, and that Salman Rushdie is probably too old for
her.
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