and weeping
And beauty to make you weep,
and disaster to make you mourn,
and the mess of the world
that creeps up close next to you
while you sleep
or wake
or eat
or dink,
or whatever you do,
and every tear will be wiped away.
but I don’t weep:
I’m not moved enough to weep,
I’m not angry:
I’m too complacent for it.
Anctious says:
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