. . . the earth turns down the sun, exploding the sky
with a carousel of colours, pan-a-vision, trans-celestial
embroidered pattern filling the eye . . .
Prioress
holding the reigns in firm grip
I direct the warps & woofs of time
and with them weave Tomorrow
somewhat to my liking
one must give thot of what will come
and how one ought to meet it
Copyright 2005 njTare
