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Sep 2013
The heights of men
        match their lows,
The heights of God
        nobody knows.

I climb the stairs,
to get higher,
awkward ones that
I am aware, I
no longer aspire,
I say the words,
but they are already
dead to me.

Dizzy...
It all moves
while I sway,
                      no stability.

The heights of men
        match their lows,
The heights of God
        nobody knows.
Someone once said space goes out there and out there and never comes back.

On the edge,
the precipice,
                I am not afraid of heights, I am not afraid, I am not,
               but that landing!

Only if I was an astronaut, but as my aspirations are,
beneath my feet.

Trod on
like stairs,
eroded and
incomplete
like this

©DWE092013
Please note that this note is merely that, take note.
This is what my poems are when I am sick, unwell, malade, SNEEZE!
Ottar
Written by
Ottar  where you will find me
(where you will find me)   
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