I rest but can't
stop moving,
I forget but can't
stop thinking.
Not a sound, not a word,
not an end, not a lord.
At this side
time won't stop,
yet expanding
with the moon,
darling.
Surely ceasing,
in a nursery of particles,
components, days and classics,
Put on a show,
what was hair and skin,
in a row.
Summoned on paper,
stroked by constancy.
No comments:
Post a Comment