No closer to the state of grace
one assumed marked passage
from a bedevilled locality – no
flash of revelation too brilliant
to stare in the face; it is all so
ho-hum abuzz, so ordinary we
see nothing to gaze at except
our own disparate reflections
But they pale into drab & grey
too far gone to stand out from
the rest; it is true as they say
we grow alike, merge without
features for the right reasons
into words better left unsaid
© 22 June 2012, I. D. Carswell
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