bare branches give way
foreheralding winter's sting snow beneath grey skies
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if I'd been expecting it
would I have been suave or just as choked and nervous? if I could meet you all over again for the first time and know all the things I hadn't. if only a stage to play through memories. like your favorite book or an old, beloved film. you would see everything underneath - all making sense and losing no beauty. what fun it would be to watch it all play out smile knowing all the secrets reciting all the lines changing nothing. it's not about the ending it's how the story's told. in the labyrinth of my heart, a hall
home to a door below a sign of letters painted blue past whose oft-betrodden threshold stand old and sturdy bookshelves, full. rows of windows overlook the winding roads among the trees below and in this room I see the two who many times have met in aeons past. faces in their hundreds come and go but this pair of souls affixed falling anew with every hour remain. brushing hands 'neath countertops, knowing smiles, through glass and in their darkest hidden place, passion's river flows. on and forth this pattern goes driven by the drumming in my breast. living on, and when its cadence slows through the doors below the sign they'll fly upon their domicile close, recite their song in aether-woven cry body lain, heart in repose. I will always love you. fingertips, and breath and lips
a channel for the warmth was felt first, leafing through a digest just across from you. later, feet beneath a table volumes being given labels the power of it, rivers, rapid flowing both ways through. A needful fact?
That all the same, we are born of stars Sun-forged atoms assembled to autonomy Imperfect, however complex. None of these assemblies Has any right or need To exercise dominion or death To begin another’s decay Giving it back to the sky and earth Such is our own choice Freedom is a right to breathe |
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