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A prayer is just a cry of becoming human A cry is just a scream Of a frightening belief. And how do we remember how to speak in tongues, And to flow through moving tunnels While molding the body to fit something else- A pattern not yet seen? Being silent doesn't stop Others from knowing your unquiet thoughts; We are more alike Than we will ever be different. Just save the last breath for god, Who pardons all your conscious confusion. That last, most brilliant light you'll never see Is only a brain being consumed By the entrophy of existence. The stars are well-lit cemeteries Of illumined souls, that went forgotten once In the unevenness between the boundaries Of time, space and heaven.
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Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:23 AM UTC
If souls were god's torches
A prayer is just a cry of becoming human A cry is just a scream Of a frightening belief. And how do we remember how to speak in tongues, And to flow through moving tunnels While molding the body to fit something else- A pattern not yet seen? Being silent doesn't stop Others from knowing your unquiet thoughts; We are more alike Than we will ever be different. Just save the last breath for god, Who pardons all your conscious confusion. That last, most brilliant light you'll never see Is only a brain being consumed By the entrophy of existence. The stars are well-lit cemeteries Of illumined souls, that went forgotten once In the unevenness between the boundaries Of time, space and heaven.
patti-masterman-heterodynemind
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Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 7:23 AM UTC
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