Starlight bends as it passes near the sun.
How did he expect to remain unaffected?
Words not ready to be spoken
to ears not prepared to receive.
Thought trying to return the voice it had been lent.
The bullet is not so magic,
if it is the wrong gun.
And yet...
The beauty in doom trumping the pain in possibility.
Ever thankful for
wandering attention,
always losing its way back.

Labels: word doodles