Intent and with a lively gait
He runs and cannot bear to
The fiend he flees rides on his back
Yet freedom's on the running
Through every hazard we have fought our way
And now in
glory it is medal day.
We must not let the fearful knowledge show:
is the place we swore we would not go.
The road lies where it is.
Journeys are its food.
Enrich its snake-blood.
Father and Mother
A thin wind in a deaf ear:
"Deny such sorrow; music has a form."
Mother speaks in
Stories without words.
Time is a wave of thought,
Moving stone ships, stone
Flesh is stronger, being soft,
Renewing failure with such gentle
Entities of evening gently burn,
Chameleon ghosts on
colours with no name;
One cloud to absolute nowhere lays faint
Bats like worries flicker and return.
Although the promised
messages won't come,
Ambiguous stillness seems to say "Begin!"
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