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Rags -- revised
holding on to illusions
trying to make it through
fevered dreams reflect fantasies
scattered threads permeate reality
this state of delusion
a symptom of the confusion
calling from the void
the angels shone with silver
their furs stuffed in a sack
lying upon cloudtops
but ignorant of their rags
seeking to reach the sky
he thought he could fly
but those born soaring
never needed to try
holding on to illusions
trying to make it through
fevered dreams reflect fantasies
scattered threads permeate reality
in silent despair
dragged down to hell
broken by breathless prayer
seeking salvation
the holy creation
unity of man
was there ever a plan?
Copyright ©
Frederick Naish
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