fragment

FRAGMENT Trust me not to lie, as I have lived to be a microspore. Change me not, as I am the one above the dominant. Life is but a merry-go-round, a substance of poise. Love, they say is not superficial, yet, only to replume And embrace the gown of white, to begin once again. Only an aversion, a misstatement, a fiction of reality. Why ask the questions, when we know the truth. Declare an oath to oneself, penetrate the profound might End all confusion, grasp the urge at the early moment of clarity. Remark the impressions, the infantile, the glory of the sight. By Diana Roder Published: 3/12/2003