but if a living dance upon dead minds why,it is love;but at the earliest spear of sun perfectly should disappear moon's utmost magic,or stones speak or one name control more incredible splendor than our merely universe, love's also there: and being here imprisoned,tortured here love everywhere exploding maims and blinds (but surely does not forget,perish, sleep cannot be photographed,measured;disdains the trivial labelling of punctual brains... -Who wields a poem huger than the grave? from only Whom shall time no refuge keep though all the weird worlds must be opened? )Love
e.e.cummings
just blows me away.
No comments:
Post a Comment