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The touch that launched a thousand ships, The one touch in the dark, The one moment that launched four months, Four months at sea before they wrecked On the shore, ruins of the snow.                                              I sit upon the shore Watching, watching the thousand ships With her hand (spin up) entangled in mine (spin down), Placed by that one touch, so long ago. Brought together and thrown apart by Brought together and thrown apart The wooden ships lay upon the shore, Damp wood softly over twinkling snow, Memories of stars.  Some things linger, Forever entangled.  Whether alive or happy or dead or what unknown. I sit alone upon the shore I sit alone staring onto the sea I sit alone, thinking, wondering, The sea darkly, One with the night.  And the memories. Picking up fragments Next to the lapping waves, lapping gently Like a puppy in a bowl, lapping on the snow. Twinkling reflecting snow and the stars. That one touch of her hand, Imprinted on mine as a tattoo.
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Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 6:18 PM UTC
That one touch of her hand
The touch that launched a thousand ships, The one touch in the dark, The one moment that launched four months, Four months at sea before they wrecked On the shore, ruins of the snow.                                              I sit upon the shore Watching, watching the thousand ships With her hand (spin up) entangled in mine (spin down), Placed by that one touch, so long ago. Brought together and thrown apart by Brought together and thrown apart The wooden ships lay upon the shore, Damp wood softly over twinkling snow, Memories of stars.  Some things linger, Forever entangled.  Whether alive or happy or dead or what unknown. I sit alone upon the shore I sit alone staring onto the sea I sit alone, thinking, wondering, The sea darkly, One with the night.  And the memories. Picking up fragments Next to the lapping waves, lapping gently Like a puppy in a bowl, lapping on the snow. Twinkling reflecting snow and the stars. That one touch of her hand, Imprinted on mine as a tattoo.
Both the title and the sentence "Whether alive..." were taken from a paragraph in Philip K. Dick's "A Scanner Darkly."  Several other bits were inspired, consciously and unconsciously, by other works.
Written by
American
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 6:18 PM UTC
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