Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.


Not Quite a Spine Poem

Everyone's got to come up with their Last Chance activity.
Everyone from Bouncy World had mustaches, even the women.
"HOWL, WOLF, HOWL!" they howled.
As a result, Marxentius Communus spiraled into insanity toward the end of his life.
Who hits reply all without knowing who "all" really is?
It's unbelievable.
And that, by the way, is another of my nifty little tricks to diddle the customer.
Gabby grew so giddy imagining what else she might be able to do that she started to hum, and then to sing.
(Doing this is known, in the vernacular, as "CYA.")
Try to control your drool long enough to reduce the mixture for about 2 min.
I certainly learned a very important life lesson about what not to do in a fire.

The relevant sentence from each of the books sitting in a stack next to me on my desk, assembled into a poem. The Facebook meme - It's International Book Week. The rules: Grab the closest book to you, turn to page 52, post the 5th sentence as your status. Don't mention the title. Copy the rules as part of your status.

(Though if it were a spine poem, here's the stack in order quoted, straightened and aligned for the photo:)


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