The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated Of dead and living. Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter. Here and there does not matter We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning. It's the social event of the week.
Nothing here is official.
Please don't sue us. I want segmented eyes. Mind the gap. May be harmful if swallowed. For external use only.