Frames per second

Of this...

annuated life I lead...

I say...

tis but one page...

of many...

in a cavalry of same...

that have turned...

many many times...

yet once again...

and once again...

as dog eared of a tale...

has ever been...

through dearth of desert's life...

and forest's damp with rain...

o'er battle bloodied ground...

and menacing terrain...

of ladies to have loved...

and men...

of infamous and noble gesture...

or of  useless and profane...

this is but one...

to bring to life...

to know...

to really know...

what has gone on...

you would of need's...

to bring them...

all together...

in a show...

of strange comedic characters...

of god's set down...

dismantling their own...

their dream...

amid fair ruins...

strolling...

purpose full of plan...

as if of souls in trance...

drinking to a death...

that used to dance...

this tome...

this book...

to briefly blighted  life...

and life unseen...

of chapter after chapter...

of degrees...

of vanity or shame...

is but a shadow...

of a mad...

and many colored race's...

bid to be...

I...

ode warden...

myth gremlin...

word keeper...

gaurdian...

of this realm...

maintain...

the long memory...

sealed...

to superconscious being...

I see you all...

I see you everyone...

I know you none...

I owe you nothing...

which is equal...

to the sum...

you've given me...

but farewell...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015


Photo: Scottish primeval forest