7 responses to “Not writing…

  1. A challenge, my dear.

    What kind of a silk purse can you make out of this sow’s ear?

    Ah, my beloved,  you sing through my blood.
    The very rightness of you drawing me forth from my solitude into the brightness of eternity.

    The tempo you set bringing me into your dance — into sync with the spheres of Heaven where gravity cannot hamper nor entropy defy me.


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