Sunday, October 27, 2002

The Demanding Memory




Stirring, mixing, endlessly

Speak to me ocean

In the middle of the night

Speak to me




Like the waves outside

Lapping up against the windows

A sea of desire and possibility

I can feel it now, getting closer




Reading the sky, telling the times

A strange excitement bestirs

Before a melancholy flood

Where is my ark? My shelter?




They say a butterly can flap her wings

And cause a hurricane a world away




Come dance with me

Butterfly


1 Comments:

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