Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Endymion the shepherd
sleeps comfortably beneath
the heavy Roman moon.

The hill where he lies
is a slow moving wave
in an ocean of light,

and he does not stir,
and he does not wake,
and he is warm as a kiss.

I wonder if in his dreams
he knows that we, the unloved,
are so brutally awake.

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