Alas, the stupid isolation of the choice

To sit here and avoid experience

To sidestep the sight of leaves flimflamming like a hand twisting in the wind

And duck the warm embraces of shared words among acquaintances

Refusing to avail myself of the stream of discovery when strangers speak their (or others’) minds

Sliding beneath the feet of travelers and pilgrims and thieves and lovers

At one with the dust so carelessly discarded and swept from the threshold

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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