Sometimes we profess to love another

But it's a perception we've uncovered

When the reality is we do not feel love

For if it were truly there, we'd rise above



All of the clutter we assemble in our minds

The negative things we pooled when blind

To the onrushing feelings of full positivity

Which imbued us with a higher sensitvity



And which led us to a real true assessment

Of the picture we painted in with cement

Which then hardened and became paved

With fixed images which we then saved



And then found we could not go beyond

The road which led us nowhere fond ...

Perhaps then is the time to rebuild walls

Based on the surety of stone, and not fools



- Tristram



Christopher W. Thomas

10:55am Monday 1/12/98