Saturday, December 15, 2012

transient war

it whispers to me at night: there is no guarantee of peace, of happiness.
and your ecstatic moments float upon mediocrity and suffering, like glimmering ice in dark polar seas
and upon that place deep below where your pulse is everything. a current that will be disturbed.

this is a life ferocious:
not always in fighting, tearing, consuming, but simply
in being. each heart beat a call outwards, responding to the dare of silence.

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