From: pbj@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: the big thing contd..
Date: Sat Jun  4 18:00:26 1994

**continued from last post**

In this darkened place
I seeonly his form
Shedding the skin that confines his
Movements, full of grace
Only by the dim light of a single smoking stick
That burns steadily into the night
Filling the room with a new familiarity
That comforts my troubled soul

The lights are flickering, the windows shake
The earth quakes with the broken hearts
All over the sphere
That wail with a pain that is not quieted
That burns without a tangible fuel

He sheds the skin and comes to me
in my puddle of shed skin
On this pallet of open aire grasses
And straw
We sleep, our unconcience forms
Shaped like little silver spoons
Sharing everything, heat, affection, and ecstasy
I try not to show him how I care

Fighting the tide of life
As I swim against the flow
Of normality pressed upon me from all sides
My fins grow tired as I try with all my might
I know I cannot do this alone although I press on in solitude

The sun burns hotly
Against the blackened skin
Of the children that stood in the flowering field
They stood for millenia, dancing together
Until the flowering field became a burning
Desert with flowering skeleton trees
AS the young coal colored rainbow
Children dance awaiting the new dawn

Her long crown shines golden down her back
Slender and beautiful
Pink skin shining in the darkness
Perfect god-inspired form
But now she is dead

Again the night has come
And we ritually abandon the chaotic
Beating of the daylight and sing the familiar
Melodies of the stars and spheres
Dancing around a vast nothing that we
Cleared space for
T o remind us of the thing we fight against
Another nothingness that cancels the music

They come together
Unaware of the intentions of others
To chisel their unity into stones of
Absolute, total void
They trust in nothing but each other

I can feel it spreading
Hitching a ride upon my cells
To completely inhabit me
To totally incapacitate me
She said with bitter acceptance
In her tone
She lives with this sickness everyday

Sculpture, smooth transition
Into something that cannot be
Known except in a haze
He makes it tangible
Forcing my soul sight into a mineral

The old soldier polishes
He polishes the medals of another
Devotion to his position
He refused to take anothers life
He rejected the massacre of many
S ohe was scorned by his peer
And those above him did not understand
His peaceable heart, the past that shone with love
    -mirrors
        -copyright 1994 aweburning

hey tell me what you thought of this..it's an experimental form i'm 
working on, the telling of many sstories at once,  sorry it was so long
thanks in advance for your input
Collee
Colleen that is