Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Solitaire

Patterns.
I don't look for them but they come,
Discovering themselves, almost
Sentient.
Shadows weaving in and out.
Similes and metaphors wild and somehow pleasing,
As if this madnesschaos (chaoticmadness) in the wide and rumbling cavern of its belly
Devoid of meaning, brings forth some sparks of something more than meaning.
Catch them, hunt them down,
Transient sparks of life or love,
Grasp the riddles they pose, for questions here are more than answers.
Madness knows no answers,
Only patterns:
This connects with that, ace on jack on queen, two and two make four hundred.
Blessed are the mad, for they shall bring forth a hundredfold.  No--
Four.

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