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Saturday, January 5, 2013


The great spinning wheel
takes us round thru dark and light.
Moving thru emotions;
breathing the winds of day gone past

Thoughts cast weaving fingers,
yet nothing when we seek to touch.
Faith depends on depth of hope;
hollow or solid, both will shadows cast.

Promises offered to the sky
in hope of gifts returned
Do not renege on the heart’s needs,
and embrace the flesh of wants.

Oh ye of little faith,
Drop your dime-store hymnal.
Forgiveness comes from deep within,
not from shallow sacred water fonts.

Don’t set your eyes on a false horizon
and hope for a sunrise of salvation.
Wake yourself from illusions of hate,
dispel the fog from the mirrors of “if.”

Icy hands of reality reach up to grab
the vanishing treasure chest of love.
Release your misguided destination,
toward becoming the whipping boy of life.

Disrobe yourself of the mantle of despair,
don the rays of truth and trust.
The miser of souls glides thru time
sowing seeds of dissension within the glass.

If you become a frustrated god,
all you touch will turn to fool’s gold.
Return the fallacy of no return,
accept creation as a perfect canvas.

© Jan  5, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

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