The sand flows
while we procrastinate
and time moves on,
whilst dabbling in
the inconsequentrial.
Whilst consumed within
calculated moves,
free spirits dance
the epiphany of informality.
Turrets of emancipation float ,
idly awaiting,
for liberated thought.
But the war continues
with futile words,
as the base of conformity
becomes locked
within black and white.
Precious moments are lost
in superiority's race,
as the protagonists stand by
already comprehending the outcome.





You always manage to pull so much meaning out of pictures! Your words are very wise and true!

9 old applause
