With the laundry hanging under overcast skies, I hear the activity going on around me. From the sawing of a down tree to the called each other by name. A quiet breeze blows out of the west gently moving the clothes. Almost like a stationary group of soldiers on parade.
Still dwelling on the after effects of last night’s dreams, I wonder if their meaning. Or even if there’s any meaning at all. I wonder too much, often giving in to my own flight’s of fancy. Thinking myself too elevated for casual conversation.
But I am just a man, a man who’s world as shaped by the influence of good and evil. A man who’s words maybe too blunt for his own good. So I sit here and dissect myself too completely. Till there’s hardly a man left to see. Picking through the scraps of what was once potential. Just to find a little peace of mind. Wrapped within a skin so frail.
All post written by
FD Thornton, Jr
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