After Sleeping on a Sleepy Day

I wonder what the magpies saw in the sleeping day of intermittent rain. There were two of them, I was sleeping in the sleeping day too, at least my mind told me so, when I had looked back on the recent past of the day. I remember that I hadn't thought about what I had been thinking. I angered inside I showed it to the congregation. The evening beckoned, the rustling leaves were dancing for me. A mighty tree, overpowering showed its strength to me. I could only wonder within its majesty. I am the moneylender and I'm closing the door. I had thought about what I was thinking, and then I thought about what I had done. The instruction book was thrown from me about the day I was born, and from my memory, but the seed within continues to grow and explain to me, perhaps like the mighty tree to its rustling leaves. There is no denying imprint. There is no way clear that is a way clear. I doubt if tomorrow will be a sleeping day. There's a cloud in my head and its raining outside.

Hunger of the Eyes

Its easier to look into the soul of an attractive woman, or try to, or pretend to. What are you doing when you gaze into the eyes of someone? What are you hoping to find? What is it possible to find there? Perhaps we get closest to those who are closest to us. Perhaps they are easier to discover. So there can be a forever stranger, someone you can't find an understanding of. You can romance their mystery, yet mystery is insincere and untruthful. But mystery is a magnet, is a lure, when it holds no answers, just possibilities. Unless of course a mystery is unravelled right before your eyes.