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November 13, 2007
A path between the leaves,
silence…
a heart bearing torture,
a story said to end
a story turning over
beginning its end
illusions of romance,
a chapter that is missing,
a continued journey,
a journey that never ends,
the inner journey within.

Process a visa,
where the process in one country
is different in another.

Process, like some food going through a machine.

Can you with stand being scrutinized,
interrogated and waiting
the fate and decision
by some man named Wilbur
with a big penetrating nose,
shaped like a birds beak,
with beady eyes
and big ears,
hearing everything spoken?