Gone

poem by: Braverman Waltz
Written on Nov 20, 2016

These colors are warm it's difference separated and talking it's beauty alone and undiscovered it transfers to a higher demand transforming spent and  lost translation it forgets the creator in the creation but never silent a wandering of the mindless kind a sophistication colored used and rewritten closed to open at 6pm 
sitting up straight with a bow undressed to the warmth 
surrounded by wind and breath ,kept,where is this sun which shines 
and shines and these clouds Why so high who owns  the grass in it's 
green or the standing trees what about those crawling insects 
Or moving people can they be taken back for a refund? the 
constant rain of blessings emptied 
the never-ending story part 6.

 

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