"The moon likes secrets. And secret things. She lets mysteries bleed into her shadows and leaves us to ask whether they originated from otherworlds, or from our own imaginations."

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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Didn't I tell you


not to go to that place?


It is me, who is your intimate friend.


In this imaginary plain of non-existence,


I am your spring of eternal life

Even if you lose yourself in wrath


for a hundred thousand years,


at the end you will discover,


it is me, who is the culmination of your dreams.

Didn't I tell you


not to be satisfied with the veil of this world?




Didn't I tell you?


I am an ocean, you are a fish;


do not go to the dry land,


it is me, who is your comforting body of water.

Didn't I tell you


not to fall in this trap like a blind bird?

I am your wings, I am the strength in your wings,


I am the wind keeping you in flight

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