What IsA Poem by John T. MillerIdeals
Little pillars of green,
Blow softly in the wind. I sit and wonder what I've seen, What has come, and what has been. Massive columns of white, Drift slowly in the sky. I dully ask who has the right, To question what is and why. We sit in vibrations, Which force us to move. We strive for a good sensation; In comfort to set the mood. I lust for more knowledge. To know more of what is. But trapped in the mindless college, I know no more--than the quiz. © 2010 John T. MillerReviews
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