If you attach an importance to counting, here's sketch number two.

This one is written in an entirely different vein, more like a contemplation of the past as tomorrow my 29th year starts.

These warm and mellow summer evenings awake the slumbering feelings of yesteryear.

It's not to live if not in touch with souls

That wander freely through the summer eve

Thousands multiplied into one great whole

Fragile stable loose and tight never leave

A moment's doubt of greater higher awe

That comes together as a spider's web

In the middle in me that's natural law

And orders all around this single web
The centre sees the storaged gnats and flies
That serve as supermarket for the hungry ones
To gather there and devour satisfies
The starved and needy souls that search is done
So come and draw a circle bellymen
And feast upon the well as well ye can
A spiritual attempt at shorthand and that
Rambles somewhat from multiple frayed
Bits and bobs.
I just let the words flow that come most
Naturally to be put on paper. I'll try to
Name these sketches poetry of the unconscious-
Ness. The point is not to attempt a perfect
Fit in one try but to create the rough
And unique mould that an individual mind
Is prone to. Later comes the fine work
Of polishing and refining/redefining and
Restructuring
The message has arrived.
X------X