2009-05-22 00:34:18Vorbei

DUSK



 
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with
which it makes love to you.

The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night-it is great.
Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.

Do not seat you love upon a precipice because it is high.

I sit at my window this morning where the world
like a pawwer-by stops for a moment,
nods to me and goes.

by Rabindranath Tagore




Do you see anything on my face or insde my heart?





I quit.   That's all.

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