as the red dot of mars passes into the closest orbit i feel a rift open in my mind that is not new but rather an echo of a forgotten conflict, it is coming back like a richochet, as if some ancient emotion were once made substantive enough to be used as a projectile on some primal battleground where body language was the only one spoken and the grunts and growls were just there to accent the drama of the actions that conveyed the message that this would be the final place of resistance..whatever could be declared spoils after this would be the last known source of sustenance for the last journey into the vast expanse of void and unilluminated thoughts that are pure desire and instinct in the sensual context and have no political or social resonance, just that feeling that this is the last stand, the final go round, the end game, last move...a completed resistance....
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Run across the valley beneath the sacred mountain and
Wander through the forest
Where the the trees have leaves of prisms and break the light in colors
That no one knows the names of
And when it's time I'll go and wait beside a legendary fountain
Till I see your form reflected in it's clear and jewelled waters
And if you think I'm ready
You may lead me to the chasm where the rivers of our vision
Flow into one another
I will want to die beneath the white cascading waters
She may beg, she may plead, she may argue with her logic
And then she'll know the things I learned
That really have no value in the end she will surely know
I wasn't born to follow