...how it’s always the disasters the wars & the spoiled poisonous lands & the prisoners in their cells & the tyrants on their thrones- how we depend on them for meaning--for relief from boredom, the interminable beauty of spring & sexual love & endless poems of blossoms & spangled birds & quiet waters whispering in only the faintest quietest voices to remind us of death?
Monday, February 7, 2011
Did you ever stop to think...
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