I think it is not a passing of the torch
as much as it is a torching of the past.
And as I sit here, ash-eyed and forgotten,
as the chronal flames leap beneath my chin,
I am whole and human and combustible,
and this scream I sing is not one of pain
but one of longing and hope and light.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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1 comment:
chiasmus!
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