Night becomes a floating city;
Our dead ambitions walk and
Make gardens pass the walls
Into the houses.
Everything outside falls away;
Only the moon is true.
Most close their thick doors,
Suspended on an endless sea.
A world of windows, no walls-
(Shadows fill and sink them)
The feeling never quite drains way,
Come tomorrow, as
Only the tide retreats.
So much to say, yet at a loss for words.
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Saturday, May 22, 2010
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