in the fields of elysium
the stars, the sea, and sleep.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Our Prayers at Evening
Bow to the wall,
Sing to the door,
Take off your shoes
And rise from the floor...
Only to hit the ceiling,
And fall down again.
Any more words
Would mean my uncertain death,
So when the stones start to speak,
I'll mutter under my breath.
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