Do you know what day it is? Did you smell it as you woke up
this morning, wondering where it had gone and wondering where it shall go? The
moments began to pass in a film strip; in unison, remarks to purpose and
passion, people and among other things, politics. I wonder am I looking back,
as I travel over the two sided bridge. Am I taunting the ways i once saw my own
self. Where had the time gone? Let alone the depiction of martyrs and heroes.
We are all alike, like petals on a flower, leaves falling from the autumn
trees; no longer green, but orange in their rhymes. Turning tables, you'll find
marks upon scratch lines telling you the truth. Not only to the ones who you've
loved, but those who always wonder. Time will tell as it always has in this
hour, in this day.
-S.M. Bjarnson
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