Hamlet’s Autumn
Shadows move to block my sight
Of the golden rods lifted to blue skies
Yet they cannot
Mere shadows cannot contain
The knives that disrupt my tapestry
Nor do they contain the substance to withhold me
That alone rests in my choice
To be or not to be
Do I move on toward the impossibilities
Or do I rest in the nothings of the shadows...
That is the question...
K, Duane Carter 11/23/12
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