Pink Mist

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    Pink Mist

    Shock-waves permeate space, time,
    rippling through life's delicate essence --

    as if it were

    ...nothing.

    A dense haze of pink mist
    hangs in stagnant air ~



    its stench, not yet reaching heaven.

    Proud, brave men



    -- assured by their own arrogance --



    attempted to contain a power

    stronger than themselves.

    ...Now, not a single ash
    remains of their existence...



    For foolish is he
    who is careless, but a moment.



    © Tim Sutherland, All rights reserved

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    acjtb commented on Pink Mist

    03-10-2009

    amazing man i love it

    Phatom commented on Pink Mist

    03-10-2009

    True, just one rash act can be so catastrophic.

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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