miércoles, 19 de noviembre de 2014

Re Syncronocity


Syncronocity,
your grey, brown, black, golden, green, blue eyes, that connect without being alike.
The contortion of everything learned without causing any pain.
To coincide in a coincidence,
where everyone around is part of the act.
And the friction of the motion,
pumps the blood to the fingers faster than the ink.
It’s never been a secret, the meaning of life
if you accept the present time.
The cardinal’s pitch, the song of the finch,
the train working hard, the car running fast;
tires splash rainwater around,
to slip between the greens and reflourish the ground.
Syncronocity is right here, is right here, is right here.

http://100poesias.wordpress.com/2014/05/02/synchronous/

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