I will pull myself from the tug of curled grassblades as root after root snaps from my limbs and recoils into the sanctuary of the soil
I will retrieve my instrument from the gnarled bush that has kept it in tune (to the key of the sun) and corrected its imperfections however slight Though the sun will never hear this song. When everything is engulfed in shimmering silver I will stand at the edge of the wood playing chords that are beyond me giving sound to the breath of the air awaiting the silken moonbeam webbing to reward me its caress melting me away taking me home with one hundred-thousand gentle strokes There is no music. Only the reverberation of a continual flow. --Jace! _________________________________________________________________ Join the world�s largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.com _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
