A wither-legged crow wisks past the window of today's tomorrow and yesterday's now. The table of oak as it stands the telltale toll of the hour's hand- it's now covered with a cloak of dust and a beaten sorrowful path, the tale a grim reaper's sythe. A carnage of dents from slammed fists dot the doting flowers among the toad stool's carpet of dust fill the gaps of time. A clock on the once mantle ticks to eternity's song of the big bang to pick the pace of cobwebs that tear away as the minute hand creaks ahead, a century long movement. A scurry of motion, a twist of the hour, and reincarnation becomes the rebirth of the past. New is to old as old is to new. A reversal of the traits, dents popping out, dust lifting as yesterday becomes today and today tomorrow. Once long ago becomes now as the sooty dove clears the windows of their grime to see one last sunset. As the last rays leave the house reality sets in as the once new becomes the old once more; the dents redent, the dust falls to blanket once more and the only change to depict the miracle placed is a single sooty dove and a feather cleaned window still smudged with grime. confused
Truthfully I don't get it myself. Can someone tell me if I'm faced in heads or tails because I'm not so sure anymore. Oh, and if you think you know what I'm saying, please tell me because I'd like to know as well.
bluevibes · Sat Dec 16, 2006 @ 08:49am · 1 Comments |