a writer of fictions

22 September 2010 § 3 Comments

It was pages and pages ago:
the start of the work,
the Rid From The Bones
that must needs occur;
Heart’s task is too dire
not to take up the pen,
to dig out the depths,
to purge as with fire.
For its calling is mighty
and its business sublime:
to greet with matching smile
Love’s anguish and Love’s ecstasy.

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