Читать книгу an inkstorm summoned under live oak we dreamed - daniel boonelight - Страница 21

there's nothing, nothing, nothing

we could invent

that would replace

the type of essence passed

in sharing actual space

well it's taken so long

and the smoke signals they try

and we want and we grow

meantime attempting up top

what is down below

and yet as real and as wordless

as eyes looking in eyes

from the time when first that was

it was everything, everything, everything