The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Monday, June 9, 2008


Element composed
in numbers of math,
delivering an enemy
of the highest wrath.
In a world of micro,
existing from start,
united with others,
cells never apart.
Brothers and sisters,
mutating fast,
saying farewell
or together at last.
Unseen by the eye
yet always in sight,
causing pain, chaos
death and fright.
Living in a lab dish,
frozen to core,
reaching to expand
always some more.
Observing company,
through glass door,
awaiting my days,
to crash on the floor.
One day I emerge,
of error or chance,
A deadly virus,
I am at a glance.

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