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SOURCE I am here without parameter where thought and wedge-tail elevate high on thermals and discipate into atmosphere where cold is a colour of glass strand fractures under foot and concern inconsequential perception of time as meaningless as the yardsticks by which the arrogance of limited existence gauge it and yet the aeons of sequential perfection which culminate in this moment are not lost, for I am hereHi fellow wordsmiths. I wrote this poem in an attempt to capture some of that which is very special about a place in the Snowy Mountains of southern New South Wales where I often go camping. It's purposely written with an element of vageury involved, to try and reflect the impact of that environment upon my thinking [subtle aspects of experiencing such a place have to be worked at a little to fully understand their significance] but I'm not sure if I've done so to a point where it is too vague or astral for anyone else but myself to fully comprehend. Can you offer some feedback please [and be as honest as you dare - I'll be genuinely grateful for All thoughts/perspectives/suggestions. Many thanks, Chris. Written December 10th, 2001 © on Dec 10 2001 01:22 PM PST 18 • 0 • 13
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