Precise, Precious, Poignant Moments

Sun, 12/01/2013 - 21:12 -- sbedian

There is a moment,

Subtle, sublime, attenuation divine,

Perceptions heavily God-bent,

Sustained over time by introductions to my mind,

Of journeys set for my own kind,

I'm the mutation, the aberration,

Like an aborigine in Grand Central Station,

The outsider, the misfit, a genius legitimate,

Always hit with diffidence, not of high quality,

Facing the Masters high and haughty,

Always catching me at being naughty,

Though I know in me I do little plotting,

But the moments mentioned beforehand will reduce tension,

I demand awestruck wonderment, kept close at hand,

High held expectation on my own attention,

And many things loved that I never mention,

I desire more than the mortal world has to offer,

I wish to plunder pyramids, and empty the coffers,

I want to be buried with it, it being the Spirit,

And live forever with the will to hear it,

Adhering to strictness of moral agenda,

Always trying openness to seek new friends,

In a world corrupt with its own ends,

I still drink the cup, and make amends,

I would take favorite souls past all ends,

And love in eternity, on this I would depend.

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