Ever, and a day.
That is the sentence, verbless
bless m'soul,
I lived this long, with you.
Since time was before now, and we
know not, but
believe
time is moving on without us, leaving us to wait,
suffer it to be,
so sufficiency is always seen enough, no
need for more,
no wish wish wish it was that other wise
way, makes it so, sufficient to the day,
to the hour, to the instant, is
the evil… is evil all it is made up to be,
or made out to be?
Making up and making out, making
differences of opinions;
kids do stuff like that.
Old men watch and see themselves grown
through the past,
passed by and by
the grace for grace, got on the way
right-used,
well, tho' less, travelled by,
path or trail or track, way
where there was no way,
this is that,
at the moment,
this is life, I read, you write, we meet in this middle
realm
of words, and words, and words and we inform
an I,
to imagine what we think we see, ifity
apps
apt to teach, reach ing
the edge of knowing, think how such things
may be
immeasurable, and we may imagine that and speak
as if we agree,
some things are so. Bigger than we can imagine,
though we may, next ifity is pending your approval.
Time and chance, dance in wonder. How is anything any thing measured, without man, the kind, not the subsets.
