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This We Cannot Have Here By: Dorothy Marie on 4/11/2002; 8:21 PM The Morning Star melts his blood Upon the aged and weathered roads, And sends a prayer with weakened hands To the Moon and jeweled buds. What apathy the Moon doth show To this, his fathers setting son Who rises now to other realms While diamond angels follow. Is this his doom? his only future? Born of one to die for all? I pray this so-- let me endure What pain I may to end this fall! When Breezes die a stagnant death And Sweat returns to mother sky, My senses sin and whisper lies-- You cannot breathe. There is no breath. Yet without touch and without scent, Without sight and without music, Without sweetness to my tongue, My lungs inhale aside my sense. In this world, I do deceive My captured soul with body free Which only conjectures-- Do not believe! Escape the evils of that Tree! And lo when eyes rest in our brains And Stars keep guard over the Moon We dream of breezes in the Sun-- We wake to warmth of new domains. Our lungs yet love what senses cannot sense, Our souls yet love what bodies shun;-- And when our hands find themselves tied And when our eyes find mists that blind And when our ears find wax in them winds And when our tongues find cotton dries And when our nostrils find no air to grind Then shall walls that ensconce the mind Melt from day and drip to night Release the hissing sweat of truth-- Offer to lambs eternal youth.
RE: This We Cannot Have Here By: Chie Theresa Fujioka on 4/13/2002; 9:37 AM WOW dorothy. These are not silly flings in to the land of the poet. This is pure and beautiful and i wish I could...
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