http://www.zorpia.com/tonyblue Thu, 21 Aug 2008 07:19 EDT Thu, 21 Aug 2008 07:19 EDT Zorpia.com http://www.zorpia.com/tonyblue/journal/1414765 In a murky puddle of water, I see an aged man's heart beating ferociously to be heard. He sits at a distance in a chair of wicker that rocks ever so slightly to and fro. Indecision creates a blanket of moisture and wrinkles in place of a forehead. His face so tender; His eyes agonized. Smooth hands, free from abuse of hard labor, hold a burning cigarette, its potent stench, a reminder of a terrible time that has yet to pass. I see a man with no aspirations His un-chapped lips smile; Contented with the warm breeze that moves his hair out of place, like his current situation. With everything correlative, he speaks, “Good fortune is brought to those who do good deeds and punishment, he ascertains, to those who are of the obverse. I have done neither; therefore, I do not really exist. I am only an image in a murky puddle of water waiting to evaporate from then sun’s judging heat.” He sits there alone, fading away, grey, smooth, and dreading the rain to hit the dirt that makes his life his strife; it makes his heart beat all the more ferociously to be heard. In an aged man, I see myself. Personal http://www.zorpia.com/tonyblue/journal/1414765 Tue, 25 Oct 2005 23:08 EDT