Terry A Posted April 1 Share Posted April 1 Knowing ends One Dead Bird earth crooning for its own Did grasping ever know such natural perfection? Even heat plays a part in awakening inconsolably rites of passage rather less spoken of where all things return to the great primal and beginning is all the possibilities again. Seeds gather their life force more expanding than before the crash of love directed like a drunk at a blindman’s ball over now in the debris of unrequited lays scars But bright eyes sparkle as if growing past long senseless fields and gardens unthaw quickening in the sky domed with flying birds. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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