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Waltz

Rating: 2.8
I touch hatred like a covered breast;
I without stopping go from garment to garment,
sleeping at a distance.

I am not, I'm of no use, I do not know
anyone; I have no weapons of ocean or wood,
I do not live in this house.

My mouth is full of night and water.
The abiding moon determines
what I do not have.

What I have is in the midst of the waves,
a ray of water, a day for myself,
an iron depth.

There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,
there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,
no vicious eyelid.

I live suddenly and other times I follow.
I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.
I have no time.

Do not look for me when drawing
the usual wild thread or the
bleeding net.

Do not call me: that is my occupation.
Do not ask my name or my condition.
Leave me in the middle of my own moon
in my wounded ground.
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COMMENTS
Shaun Cronick 02 May 2020
A great message displayed for one and all. Superbly written by a master.
1 0 Reply
Nicole Settimi 19 February 2019
' Do not ask my name or my condition. Leave me in the middle of my own moon in my wounded ground. ' - yes, yes, yes. Love this. Just let me continue my walk towards death. Just let me be. Xx NDS
1 0 Reply

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