Sunday, January 4, 2009

a salutation to the new year

So here we are compressed and expanded light and darkness flowing from our fingers and heads…
Our hands pull out the spirit
A release of sorrow
An acknowledgement of loss
Our hands weep
The secret infinite
We mourn his early departure
But Grace will call on
Those who suffer
A kiss, all of your warmth
Passed to me in my ennui
Oh how you nourish me
And this time we will keep to ourselves
Lovers like none other
For we have chanced the entire
Roamed as strangers
In the lands
Of this world
And we have loved
Shameless and feral
In rooms foreign and majestic.
Our restless return bears us here
Back to the frigid land that waited
In a certain kind of slumber
Here beneath the wasted trees
In the wild we recoil
Withdraw into our fragile caves cradled
By the earliest hills and pass the time…
Until the sunrise.
- Buck Curran January 2009

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