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Images like shards of glass
Diamond shaped, rectangles, circular visions
Pieced together from future calling
And slivers of the past
Colorful moods, bright and daunting
Seen as good or bad
Changing images change perception
Of what I've got and what I had
Cyclone spinning tears apart
Solid image of the mural of life
As if it were a painting
There would be a beginning and an end
Mixed up fragments from that painting
Fly by a misunderstood context
If I was to see it all calmly in order
Life would be boring forever snoring
The future would be the past
The past is already the past
The present is all I have.
February 2001
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