when sometimes the wind
blows you down, the early
aches of morning come
and you are falling again
in love with every moving
creature that comes and
crawls; they seems to smile
at you.

these are the ways of whirlwind worlds:

always in a state of opening.

and that's always when
the wind blows at you
trying to drop you to your knees

(you've spent too much time on your knees already)

so you lean and scramble,
your opening angles unfold
and certainly soon you'll
be where you're going
because everywhere is
always where you're going
and you'll get there
wind or not
doors don't close when you're open

at least,
none of the ones that matter do.

and you're only interested in the
ones that do
(the ones that do) and you
are always turning into
the day to sigh
you are always
facing the sun when the night comes

i don't know how else good things happen.

2008-01-27 | 8:42 a.m.
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