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Swaner Jan 2017
Are you born of barren music?
Of long forgotten fossils 
Of silence that sways gently in the ground
Buried in the ancient sageness of seasons

Are you alive in the night?
Mixing with the blue and purple breath
Taking on guises and repeating the archaic dance of your childhood 

Are you reaching out over the shadows
Compelling my heart from impalpable dark
Opening curtains to lost stories and rhythms 
Enticing me to jump into the indefinite void
 
Who is she?
Who formed her mouth and colored her eyes?
Who gave her legs and the exhalation of movement and stride?
Who calculated her heart to pull with the tide?
Who formed her with just enough dust to make her depend on this alluring ride?

I call back into the ages wherever I go
I explore the distant deserted hills with magic in my bones
I perform every art in detail
Just to bring her here
Just for one more chance... 
at her affection

— The End —