Sunday, May 18, 2003

Promises are made on paper chains strung in the sky
Lit for ninety-one nights
Burnt on the ninety-second
Embers soaring in the air
Dark-eyed children orphaned and lost
They settled on his sleeve with the lint and the dust
Carried along in the sway of his limbs
While I watched

It all passes by in a blur.
The superfluity of existence and the weightlessness of the body.
The redundancy of memory and the forgotten glimpse of an unseeing touch.
To seduce is to rule. To be seduced is to fall.
Beginnings will be grafted onto endings...
For love of the game...