Sunday, August 26, 2007

Not All Rants Must Rhyme- Blank Rant 1.0

I dream of colour and form
I wait for them to merge.
I wait for them to merge
So I may seek comfort
In things that make sense,
In things that seem complete,
In things I know and comprehend.
When often I lie
In pensive state,
In restive mood,
Or in cerebral dread.
I seek my past to come forth
And fill my dream
With the light of familiarity.
Craven I must seem;
To them who crave uncertainty,
To them who torment danger
And to them who taunt death.
But it takes great strength
To bear what is trite
And to bask with blind glee
In the rays of familiar light.

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