Tuesday, February 5, 2002
as in a landscape, lost to eyes unused to being found
travelling a wide, moist and blackened road;
beneath, the soil and stones lay with restless
on either side grow a few trees and a few purveyors
though they have never been lost, neither the
shopkeeps or the accidental trees.
do not seek aid of those stores, wandering pilgrim,
in time will come death or
warm, clean rain will fall on those verdant trees
and that soil underfoot or
will continue to cleave unto all,
that rain will be
euchari, euchari. benedictum sunt canticum
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