“As Stations Mingle”

Friction-Fire

“As Stations Mingle”

As stations mingle, friction’s knife
Hotwires new doxologies, raw mean scores
Of tomorrow’s fossils in the race to conquer even more,
To insinuate, to probe further into space and time with strife
The irritant in collusion with raw invention; but not to worry.
Though scars and bruises in the centrifuge cannot be
Denied, there is a price, a cost, a casualty of penalties
That plays this hand. Pulchritude and its natural fury
Produce progress in the blessèd and propinquity in the course of rhyme.
Prognosis, here, is no rocket science, but seekers redefine
The times and logic, the fresher prepositions of the condign
Evolution of those who strive within a conscious interaction, sublime
To him who is content with what it is he is and what he does
As both destiny and fate confirm what he will be and what he was.

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One response to ““As Stations Mingle”

  1. Always a cost methinks, John, short pockets or long, ’tis the same price.
    have a wonderful Christmas and New Year from a very lax Pen xxx

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