Dear Mysterious Muse,
Wither wanderest thou between East and World's West?
From fell forests tall to fair flaxen fields,
Beneath North's dark Night, or Namib's Noon-Sun?
O'er Winter's white covers may you walk for a while.
For a time mayst thou tarry, yet I'll talk to thee still,
Awaiting in patience thou arise and return
Thy home --- this I know --- thou shalt not leave forever.
Watching the door
Thursday, January 22, 2009
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