Sunday, February 14, 2010


When the wind rises at night

I hear God in my thoughts:

Hi there? What for!

The engine that shall you

Will someday not

A weightless realm we’re carried through

Where no decision matters

I don’t know if there’s any time left

For fool’s wanderings; but I pretend there is

Rotting, dead leaves

Decorate lost shores

With all the dying colors of Fall

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