tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42961147073586052882011-07-07T17:35:02.225-07:00Some excerpts from a novice seeking to fulfill his passion for writing.Barry Bujolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11265207417269933307noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296114707358605288.post-63245508370717664062008-07-14T15:29:00.000-07:002008-07-15T09:49:51.591-07:00<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_urMyVh4e1fE/SHzUdEWvGSI/AAAAAAAAAAg/wLmGd3TWXcA/s1600-h/Tree.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223283263693330722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: left" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_urMyVh4e1fE/SHzUdEWvGSI/AAAAAAAAAAg/wLmGd3TWXcA/s320/Tree.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div></div><div></div><div>Days pass us by, we loose track of their identity<br />Each forgotten moment floats, then falls with the setting of each sun<br />Afterwards the ordinary absorbs the original<br />The arms of time, growing weak, wane under the load of work </div><div>Hereafter without warning, the lights go out-never to be rekindled</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4296114707358605288-6324550837071766406?l=barrybujol.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Barry Bujolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11265207417269933307noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296114707358605288.post-38903886013435399852008-07-14T15:27:00.000-07:002008-07-14T15:28:43.495-07:00<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_urMyVh4e1fE/SHvTD5BY30I/AAAAAAAAAAM/1HDDF_qWHHs/s1600-h/traveler.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223000256665935682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_urMyVh4e1fE/SHvTD5BY30I/AAAAAAAAAAM/1HDDF_qWHHs/s320/traveler.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">I looked back at the prints left on the concrete<br />Some invisible, others black, from mud on my feet<br />I could think of a source for sanity's sake<br />Only to discover the origin in the shortcut I decided to take<br />The brave, unpaved, unprincipled route<br />This was the best way I knew to get out<br />The sun detailed the sidewalk, every crack, every hole<br />Behind me, in the shadows may have been the same,less, or more<br />I could have kept forward with heavy foot, or cleaned my sole<br />But passion preceded consciousness, the core was cold<br />Time had room for occupation,but fear of loss bred hesitation<br />So I kept on moving, muddy towards my destination</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4296114707358605288-3890388601343539985?l=barrybujol.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Barry Bujolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11265207417269933307noreply@blogger.com0