Shed

The sand.
A new movement comes over me
A symphony of death with indifference.
Clean, done, thoughts, unmoved eyes, watching.
The mind's eye folded from both
Recording the onslaught before me as I deal using the new raw data inside me.
It's an eloquent symphony.

Composed by those who watch and those who listen
To things almost unheard in the passing day.
With the unspoken, knowledge is commuted in harmony with the unseen.
Mysticism decends.

We watch all things never brought to the masses to be discarded and forgotten.

-11/10/96