it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be -
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
--e. e. cummings
"In the twilight of the moon the faithful come to pray to a god still gone
unseen. In the city the lovers make love, while others ---- for the sport of it.
And the lost come to wander. A long time ago I came to accept the idea that
the world is just one big web of life and motion. When the faithful throws his
arms to the sky it sends a wave through the web. It comes to beat upon the
backs of those entangled in one another. It adds energy to their thrusts.
And from them a heat arises so intense it becomes like liquid in the air. A
moving vapor that rains down upon the lovers as they play..." -Joseph
--excerpt from "Butterfly" by Bethalynne Bajema
Email: swigit@angelfire.com
