And when the inner abyss contemplates back, if we are brave, the finger points at the moon, the moon points back, and we have another poem, a gift from elsewhen, a pearl with no price tag, a silk purse, a pond even unicorns will drink from, a shooting star that fell to earth in the one spot we planted our hopes, a list of everything we forgot to remember to forget, and the seeds of our redemption.
No comments:
Post a Comment