The Witching Hour

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To speak plainly,

to escape the shuffle of what this body can muster

is a temptation.

To think I have passed through the king’s innards

and the innards of a porter,

and once bore a child in the stormiest of weather.

To think of all of that blood makes me shiver,

for all the worst parts of a man have been loved

by all my geared hearts. To know low and lower.

Our lives take many incarnations, and all bodily trapped.

To think in another life my mother was my lover,

and my father my best friend. And in another, I the mother,

she having inhabited the body of a neighbor in a field

beyond the leaning fences of a simpler nature.

Nothing to say of her.

And how we have known each and each in some manner

of touch over an eternity.

To speak plainly,

the passions have me in their grip. If I let it pass,

chances are I will laugh and laugh. But if scorn lives on

to crush my way, the longest nights will I know,

the lowest depths will I cry.

All of the lives shared within my mind’s eye

have proved this bye and bye.

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 17, 2013 ⏰

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