She loves to dance
Her life is one fabulous dance
In her youth, birdsong of the dewy morning
In heat hora – an excited frenzy
to rediscover the juice of her ripening voice
Magic (sighing laugh)… oh how she feels it
People grasping at fading dreams
longing for one hope left unshattered
Su vida an incredible fairy tale cada dia, verdad
Yet her corazon tightens too
Below the cresting surface
Something bubbles in the still calm
the joy swirls with a stream of restless, uncertain blues
Sometimes it feels so good to cry
even if you don’t know why
The only answer
There are no answers
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This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 6th, 2009 at 12:25 am. It is filed under alive, Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
The way to innocence to the uncreated and to God leads on, not back, not back to the wolf or to the child, but even further into sin, ever deeper into human life.
— Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf
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