thru chasms where thought may reach
laughter's image is shed
for a world in light created
for you, my friend, I bled
Spirits twine in endless dance
past time and space to wed
joined by joy in paradise
when chains of words have fled
He sat on the shore, the song of the ocean muting the sounds
of the battle that raged in the distance,
the sorrowful tearing strains of a people in
separation. As he gazed into the distance,
his eyes losing focus as the song enveloped him, he saw a
spark rising from the waves, infinitely small and filling
the horizon, the origin and the climax.. and he knew all who
looked would see the same spark, brilliant and unchanging yet
different for every eye which beholds it, as beginning and
end are opposites and twins, and it won't matter.
"At the end of seven hundred years, the laurel will be green
once more."
- Anon. Troubadour, 13th Century
It'd be a pleasure to exchange letters with you, Sam.
JP |
