Each fresh breathe breathes life anew,
by David Lacey
As wisdom beckons through the starlight.
Through the eyes of an idiosyncratic angel I perceive a
Knowledge beyond her years, it lay dormant,
Sedated through the fear of simplistic Truths.
I, the same, claim no sanity just as I require no proof
That I exist beyond the circle turning out of time.
How is it your turning in your circle?
How is it you can follow true a square?
How is it we can question so existence
As if we were never there?