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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Theirs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">too much convolutions like layers<br>of threads and interfering light</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">don't know. I can't pinpoint. Which is which from whom is whom? <br>too many to hold. Myriad memories.<br>I cannot grasp what is what. <br>When is when. Why.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">too many bombardments. Less and lesser close-ups.<br>Woos delayed. Mass growing under the skin.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">nothing touched. Distance dissolving. Time melting.<br>It is better this way. We like it anyway.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495701" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It is theirs.We just watch. We understand nothing.<br>The meteors do what they deserve. They just pass away.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>

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