Saturday, October 24, 2009

Poetry Year October 24

Words are a distant sun,
So frail to be, unseen even by sharpest eyes.
Words are a distant sun
a billion suns, a billion suns around a billion suns.
So far so frail, so weak,
but brought inexorable the tide,
the filaments of dark that curl clawed fingers,
and hold the fate of all in their hands.

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