In a world where wisdom must be couched in arcane descriptions,
the seer must remain behind smokey lenses; capturing only this and that
as our unique filtering systems allow us to see those things which can benifit
and those things which cannot.
Not but illusions are, after all, the gist from which we grind our mill.
© Copyright 2016 Don George. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Mystery and Crime
Poem / Non-Fiction
Poem / Poetry
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