|Janice is alone in her
A bit of batter broken off from Being.
Nor does she quite believe what she is seeing,
Immersed in what appears to be illusion.
Come, Janice, to the ocean of your soul,
Every drop of which contains the whole.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon
|[about this site]||[poems for free]||[poem of the day]|
|[site policy]||[about me]||[links]|