Playful innocence
set loose amongst lost causes:
Once more, I'm a child.
Saturday 7 November 2009
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The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.
1 comments:
There is value in it, joy I think.
Yes, now I'm sure of it, joy.
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