You don’t want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen
to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.
And anyway it’s the same old story—
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
to survive.
Mostly, I want to be kind.
You are killing me, but you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you. Come оn and kill me. I do not care who kills who.
Someday, somewhere, with someone, there may be the chance to balance, to stabilize, to learn to integrate all. Who knows? But maybe?
In the radiant palaces of quiet afternoons
They spoke words that fall оn the ear like a sob,
And kissed deeply, so that their souls were consumed!
The hours withered and fell like blossoms of gold.
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