the Hand of the Sentient Sprit spills vocabulary from the finger tips. Spinning sifting, insisting resisting, straight from the hip. Infinite Mother asks of us all, to surrender and give in to the call. Onward expressions of unimaginable gratitude, begging for guidance at the bottom of the stairs. Two years past is still right now, punctured through the skin of an illusory wall. Never arrive, yet never depart, never contrive, and never fall apart... http://www.xanga.com/a_story_unfoLding I started this about 2 years ago. It was an idea for a project, that sort of flopped on me. Now, I'm resurecting it, and intend to keep at it.
And I forgot to extend my thanks to GypsyPriestess, as well. Thank you for the comment. Also, I thought I'd mention that I took down this poem from the site. It's supposed to be sort of a "novel/poem" type thing, and I just felt all I had was a collection ofa few poems. So, I'm kind of re-writing it.
