Thursday, December 2, 2010

Through winter's sleet
And desert's heat
The song bird bid ye go
Songs of vision like the sky
As falling stars like opportunities glow
But not one who you meet
Or passes by
Neither elements released upon your back defeat
Nor persuasion convince you or from your dead hand pry
The endless glory of our lover for I can't help but what I live for, die.
11-30-10

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