Saturday, January 9, 2010

Away from her

Isn’t it true however far we have wandered into our provinces of persecution, where our regrets accuse? We keep returning back to the common faith from which we have all descended; back to the hands, the feet, the faces. Children are always there and take the hands, even when they are most terrified. Those in love can not make up their minds to go astray. Our distant doctor returns most often. Only the mad will never, never come back. For doctors keep on worrying while away, incase their skill is suffering and deserted. Lovers have lived so long with giants and elves they won’t believe again in their own size and the heart prays ever so gently. Let me find pure all that can happen. Only uniqueness is success, for instance, let me perceive the images of history, all that are pushed away with doubt and travel. Today’s and yesterdays are like bodies. The desires of the heart are as crooked as scorched grieves. Not to be born is the best for man. The second best is the formal order; the dances pattern. Dance while you can. Dance, dance for the figure is easy, the tune is catching and will not stop. Dance till the stars come down from the rafters, dance dance, dance, dance till you drop.

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