Satisfied. My soul.
The earth turns on its axis.
Gazing into pure nothing I see something.
One man struggles
another relaxes.
Quantified. My soul.
I aspire to something new.
Belief is being half way there.
The man stands at the waters edge.
Toes buried in the sand.
Impervious to the cold harsh.
Buffeted by the tides of misfortune.
He makes his echoed pledge.
Satisfied. Quantified. Silent. Quick.
Let not this moment pass.
Alas.
T’is gone.
For now.
thejrpc 