Thank you note


Dared I think life could be better than the books I lived in.
Like dear Mr. Pangloss my world has come a falling down.
I bid adieu to the night, to the creeping desires of the moonlight.
I take recourse in the leaves again, of autumn, of summer, of winter.
Rained it heavily, dawned it sensibly: some men never live, never die.
Souls tethered, circling eternally; drawing, redrawing Soul’s territory.
The wanderer sucked into one: the wanderer, he never belonged.
I hope now the leaves have some dew, or I’ll be left dry forever.

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