Friday, June 17, 2011

Fine Sands

These things we thought were holding us together:
strong backs, bone and nerve, tendons and cartilage,
naked need, blood and vessel - they carry us only so far.
Two million beats, that's all we get.

It's a strange sympathy
broken down by weight and sun,
born into a new light
by eclipses and precious seconds of dark.
Run headlong and strong, my love!
Run into the waves on the edges of us
where we are battered into fine sands
and stripped down to nothing more than the bright,
burning essence of what we always were -
two million beats to start again.

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