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…because

words spill the ardor –

 

why, I’m told,

words could never contain the

vast unspokens of bonding,

the deep-down zig-zag crossings –

 

frequently,

words are blind-sided by the

innocent hope

of visions that come riding

the crescents of sleep –

 

… and they could scarcely

bear the weight of

the fragile songs of

secretly stolen hearts  –

 

even though

they like to roll the rippling

blues, have words any stomach

for longing…

that belonging

the ocean feels

to the salty sky?

 

can words, airy,

pretty,

kitschy,

wrap

a blue moon night…

an unasked ‘why’?

 

… and if you have come to this point, please take another moment and read through this other post, on the Delhi gangrape, on Delhibaroque.wordpress.com… http://bit.ly/YeURAn.

Thanks!

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