if I was the wiser of the two.

We are not but powder
the skin of my brother
We dissolve in the ocean
We give it color
We are not but reflections
or so it may shriek
magicians break locks
on our Caesar's dreams

We are not but powder
elasticized form
We fear what We see
We shake to the core
God's gift to Himself
leads us to the shore
but reflections We are
and not much more


yeah...I write poetry too. Try and guess what it means...I just told Grace that I enjoy poems because they mean as many things as there are people in the world.

I like saying the second stanza out loud like the star of some B movie narrating his exit.

you think this could be a poem that T.M. writes? I do.