THE CONTENT SEEMS
PRETTY THEMELESS
My idea for the illicit contact extends outward -
like distant things, touching of hands, intermingled
hearts and minds. No Cambodia, no Ankor Wat
ever had such wings. Under a million locks with
a million keys, I would still open the door for you.
The ancient tongue you are speaking, I speak it
as well : lost in the fragrant spices of a universe
of memory. A thousand years old, these temples
stood, yet now, by the works of Man, they
are crumbled and fallen to ruin.
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