The weight of time
Many of us seem to carry time, all its weight,
into the present, see it not, call it our fate,
and without insight, without knowledge, state,
it was my nurturing, it’s my nature that brought me forward,
into what I have become – a prisoner of this mental ward -,
where all experienced, all one is, is forever in memories hoard.
The echoes of, constantly bouncing off the inner wall
of that long, and ever winding hall,
where, if not strong, you will surly
take a fall.
So, do not let the past squeeze your coglionis.
Do not hide behind masks, be phonies.
Have coglionis made of stonies
B. J. “A” 2
April 25th 2014
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