środa, 8 sierpnia 2012

Form (3)



How many years must have passed

To sort out some things that last
Those should have gone away though
Many, many moons ago
How many wrinkles must come
To understand that it's far and done
Can I keep up with the river's flow
Or rather give up and let it go?



Where are the winds that carry my thoughts away?
Go ahead, my hands, feel and caress the clay
Until you form a better me
And I'll put my mind into it and make you see


How many strings must break up
Until I see the bottom of the cup
With no links no vest no boat
I still feel that I can float
How many cries must have gone
How many sighs before the dawn
To give up trying to let go free
Or rather keep it and make you see

Where are the winds that carry my thoughts away?

Go ahead, my hands, feel and caress the clay
Until you form a better me
And I'll put my mind into it and make you see


unconquerability, unpredictability, impossibility, undefinability, 
shall I question their attractiveness?
... shall I turn to vanity instead?... diminish...
 find joy in plain matters?

How many men must have passed

To take in it never lasts
But when at last I make you see
Stand by me and never flee


Where are the winds that carry my thoughts away?
Go ahead, my hands, feel and caress the clay
Until you form a better me
And I'll put my mind into it and make you see

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