This photograph was taken at The Last Bookstore in Los Angeles.



Does the soul know of age?

Does it beg to rest its head?

Does it ache for flight,

From the stillness of my bed?


Can it breathe in such confinement,

Under the pressure of my will?

Does it have the patience of thought,

To know it cannot rise until?


It has taught me all it knows,

Forced me to see all that is,

Awakened me from the stillness of life,

Showed me this is not mine nor either is it his.


It has been brought to heart,

As it ran through my mind,

This life is not mine nor yours,

It belongs to mother time.


All that she has asked,

Is for us to teach a few,

And that living a selfless life,

Will keep you from consuming you.


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