Or a glimpse of someone's struggles with perfection.
Even greyhounds need a clear, still light
To bring them to the precipice of night.
Rest here, then, where joys and sorrows blend;
Yearning needs no goal and has no end.
Be like a bell, and let me be your tongue:
Your thoughts will toll when I've your passions rung.
Nor can I know what words will strike your ears:
In poems one's life transfigures what one hears.
Clear words contain a silence still as glass,
Horizons as remote as distant brass,
Old meanings darting luminous in pools
Like light caught in the blaze of well-cut jewels.
All this exists like sound without a bell;
So be its instrument, and listen well.
Give my poems the courtesy of space;
Often they need room to show their grace.
Reason works quite wonderfully by day;
Darkness must be grasped another way.
On you the moon, with muted, mirrored beams,
Now casts its lace of memories and dreams.






hey thanks for visiting my page! much appreciated!
later
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i wish i was your bitch :<
you cant be saying that then leaving :<
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witty comment here
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it was brought to my attention that this was out of date..
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Are you a parking ticket? (What?) You got fine written all over you.
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Are you a parking ticket? (What?) You got fine written all over you.
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Are you a parking ticket? (What?) You got fine written all over you.
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