Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Praxis

Tipped upon other gods forehead
Plunged we were never had
Within the practice of our program
Departed ritual choking on those
People for an
Instant spirit of goodness
Curfew curtailing wondered him a guide
To the wanted might be welcome
Expression I arrived
The craftsman of our those which
Hear the word at least take out this
Hour of praxis this long whatever
Time to impression on us overburdened
By our dropped outside convulsion
Bursting forth walking beside you
Prepared as you were for the
Practice of his chords and his
Law stripped beyond our small
Room devoted as a boy the new
Wine is found to
Destroy whatever end described
Our grains of non-existence
Time repeated wisdom now and
Again.

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