sharpness will come quick and swift
as one might be speared

you wont cry out,
"I am dead!"

you will ponder
"why"

then you breath
once again
taking that deep breath
looking out

your door that was slightly open

Open it wide, many a wondrous play is out there
to put pen to paper

As we all write and share,
How open is really anyone's door?

but really, who cares?

Its not about that..

let that woven mat of words
swing, slide. grip. stand, free fall from grace, rise to utopia, which ever way you create a space to place your words.

At times the spear will fall
Or be aimed, now that's special....

One does not always see through the same sphere...
That's how we make friends..

Tis the beauty of friendship

xxxx