The Thing about the sky is it's always going to rotate.
Rotate, spin and spin.
The Thing about the mountains is they're always going to reach.
Reach for heaven, and reach for hell.
Maybe everything in the middle?
But where is the place without a name?
The place that mixes and matches everything and nothing.
I hope to god I never wake from my restless dreams.
For if I do,
Will I ever return to that place without logic?
Logic replaces childhood.
In the end, that is it.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
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