May the unbegun begin to scroll down or up <br />and make my journey through the letters, <br />the words that make the thought, <br />the sentence that rings with doubt <br />and confidence. <br />but not without emptiness - <br />full of emptiness, a manifold of ideas <br />for the brain has a mind of its own <br />and we are editors of sensation <br />behind the eyes <br />between the ears <br />above the tongue <br />in reveries of dreams that exist and don't exist <br />in pastel shades of black and white <br />that explode into the daylight <br />of becoming a beginning of the end.<br /><br />Fred Babbin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fireworks-28/
