Thursday, January 08, 2009

The Property of Dancing in Place

In the place of sighs and silver storm clouds,
The future is assaulted by prisoners of life.
What I try hiding in my heart is birds.
We trust, we tumble, time comes from a dream.

And I have preserved the way to hide
My birds of time, their ashen eyes in shadows.
Thus do we reinvent the laws of sleep,
Of marching tales to the foreign wonder,
And only recently do we describe the bright faces
In the dance.

Well, we do divulge. We dream the darkest breezes,
And eye the tales of hiding, of laughing shadows.
Everything isn't at once the beautiful,
It is the rehearsal of snow on glass beaches,
Painted harbors.

The dance isn't a scarce individual,
The dance sees the mind is all moments,
The dance knows that on water,
I do not want your face.

Birds easily fear
The children in the abyss,
In gloomy fury lingering for dusk.
Whole movements in the mind
Disperse acting in the universe,
Sleep ends, dreaming begins.

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