Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Three, thrice, tres

in my head, words flow to rhythms; so much to say, so much to say

lips fumble and stutter; so much to say, so much to say

nothing comes out; so much to say, so much to say

during the quietest hours of the night; good mourning; so much to dream, so much to dream

strike the chord and sing aloud

we three; in our hearts, in our minds, in our spirits

cannot break away; His plan is not one to be compromised.

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