Saturday, January 16, 2016

The Honest Book

Had no words. Wasn't like this.
Wasn't a codex, pictured

No rare illuminations,
Spelled out no music. Wasn't

Still, nor moved itself either.
Disintegrated in storms

And as well in fine weather,
Almost imperceptibly.

Secretly, its blank expanse
Contained capabilities

For all motivated things,
Wishing to not contain them.

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