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The Meaning

The language of rhymes,
Told here from my thoughts,
What will it mean?
If the meaning gets lost?
I'll stick things together,
All the phrases will match,
I'll write them all down,
And always start from scratch.
But where am I going?
And what will I say?
There's so much out there,
But no time for delay.
I'm trying to capture,
The sweet richness of time,
Like the glue that binds it up,
In a great pantomime.
Where is the source?
Where my ideas come from?
I'll just study within,
And then I might be done.
Tapping the place,
Somewhere inside,
You can't see where it lives,
But neither can I.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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