martes, 20 de abril de 2010

.we’re born into vanity, bones feeling everything

the walking dead

Someone once told me
that the grieving process
could be the kind of dance
that starts off slow,
quickens its pace,
and then sends you sprawling
through the air right when you thought
you were going to forget
to pirouette twice before bowing out.

that's right,

we're going to be lyrebirds,
and our first dance
could have been in Heaven
and our last will be
in some Australian forest.

bits of "lyrebird" by solaces