Never in my life I would the grave of light so comforting As I find something similar that was not inside of myself And yet it was there, waiting. Waiting to find me in this dark. Virgil, Dante, Sade! This stranger listened and I bade Talking of the world and ourselves we wade What a storm we made Master, this being made me For I am the one that dares to see To understand the violently loving things that be I ask myself, sometimes, Possibly, maybe, Was this person really looking for me?
©V. Sade 2007 Continue reading