Progression 200th Poem
An endless corridor of locked doors is forever.
A fine line borders what is to be and never.
There is a balance of new beginnings with each end.
Time brings elements of creation. What will it send?
Will rhythm expire with a severance of connection?
It is undetermined how this will attain perfection.
The future is forever, and what will be its qualities?
Progression is achieved as I deploy my proclivities.
Join me to elucidate the unknown everywhere.
Enlighten the spirits and make them become aware.
My life’s course is strewn with mines.
I move furtively as I traverse the lines.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2011
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