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The Idea


By jamesaguiar - Posted on 22 January 2010

 It's odd
Where I trod-
Without sense-
Innocence 
Collects me
As I see, smell, taste
A new dimension
Without intention
Brought into my mind
Pre-constructed
From someone else deducted-
He whizzing by my world
On a journey of his own-
A herald,
A clone, alone
Glimpsing my visions
Perhaps with derision,
He inserts his idea
as theater
For his own sake.
he takes my thought
After he has wrought
His own conclusion
Following the intrusion-
Angel?
Devil?
He shouldn't meddle
In my affairs 
Or shape my cares.
But,
maybe it is I
Who on the fly
Disturbs his meditation
With my own creation.
Perhaps he and I are linked
At the brink
Of the knownless
As we restless
Create new reality
From banality -
On this reflection
Follows conjection:
No thought is new
But derives from a stew
Of consciousness forever
Of any mind
Of any kind.
Could this be truth set loose?

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