The Fog


inconstant specs float hither and tither

individual and disconnected

separated by vast inconsequential fog

islands of solitude blink out their signals

ideas, images, words sounds,

materializing from immaterial brain space

released into the fog

as bottled messages floating aimlessly

to connect us all as one

through the impossibly intangible

fog of the internet



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    Who me?

    I m the tree that bends in the wind, longing for the flight of the bird upon its limb. 

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