Into all the empty places my soul
suffers, where the cold holds sway and I am
alone, miserable, marooned on high land,
she licenses me to approach, paroled
by a sweetness so pure as to kill a man.
Into the abyss she stretches her hand,
unrolls the golden cable from Indus,
suffuses light where had been abandon.
Shudder to imagine world without such fund.
Outstretched, nearing munificent nimbus,
my hand.
— joystjohn
suffers, where the cold holds sway and I am
alone, miserable, marooned on high land,
she licenses me to approach, paroled
by a sweetness so pure as to kill a man.
Into the abyss she stretches her hand,
unrolls the golden cable from Indus,
suffuses light where had been abandon.
Shudder to imagine world without such fund.
Outstretched, nearing munificent nimbus,
my hand.
— joystjohn
This is really beautiful. That's all I can say at the moment. I think I was hearing the rhythms more than usual. (Macoff)
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