Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Before

There are two of me, 
My other half sings by the back door,
As I lie
In the safest place I know
And long for the world. 
There's a million miles of me.
Strung along.
A line.
A line that marks
The places I've been.
Trapped by the forward motion,
The notion
Of time. 
No-one waves
At the endless lines of me.
I stand alone
But not alone
Together, with the others
That stand behind me.
The same as me
But un-altered
By the
Forward motion
The notion of
The future. 

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