the world takes no notice as I strap on my rusty armor (that chafes at every joint) and clamber up to sit upon the skittish steed that is my Purpose the windmill takes no notice as I lower my wobbly lance and jab my spurs against the flanks of my tired and wheezing mount and point myself hell-bent toward the looming giant the world may take no notice or if it sees, not care but for a moment or two my Purpose is my Self and for a moment or two my Life is such that I feel the wind upon my face
© Gary Edward Nordell 2003, all rights reserved
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