YOU'VE GOT TO MAKE
THE CONNECTIONS
Strange acolyte who runs humming, finds
light where darkness dwells, come home with
me. There are strummings in this oasis - all
those harmonic chords you may once remember
hearing. And these are marvelous things.
-
All momentary, the long and tedious days
drag on - that river running by us seems to
know its way, on its own, lone and sedate,
and not without another curious nature.
-
Could I but find that clue which would lead
me homeward bound, I'd file that note in the
letter bag you carry. As it is, we each need
make our own connection - come with me,
tarry not. I note the postman passing.
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