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Sunday, April 29, 2012

conversations with poets p. 1

X:
I had a vision of leaking light from a wound, as though dying. The only way I could reconcile the pain was from bleeding all that light out into everything I was doing. Somehow I know that is the only way I will find peace. 
Y:
That was not death but birth. That which you were was escaping to illuminate the world around it.
X:
A guru of sorts told me to find guidance in the line "let me die, and become the breath of the breathless." I need to die. I need it like so many waking hours need sleep. I need it like life. And I've been up so long, eating and drinking past my fill, stealing light from the early morning hours. 
Y:
There is no death. Only change. And change you will. 


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