The wine is gone; The tang of it upon my tongue. Should I have drunk it all? Does it dishonor my breath? When tigers prowled I drank liquers, The sheet of my bed Ruffled into rivers we had swum. At the first footsteps on the stairs I breathe more quietly. I know whose noises they are. "The sea air, do you like it?" "It is pleasant, yes. I was born in the country." Do not speak of the past here; There is only the present. I have spoken gently; "Go down, go down into the grass. The sand, the sea. Find the roots, the fronds, The wavering tips. Delicate." There were miracles. Once there were miracles. Men had land, they strode across it, Riding the downs in their coming, Tall in the mornings, their hopes unfettered. Upon coming to the sea they knew their journeys; We are the land-locked; All beyond is possessed, Reserved and taken. And in the jungles prowl the tigers bright. You know of this. I have been where the tigers stir_ Have seen the moonlight cold upon their flanks. There was purity.
Reason for writing:
Several images seemed to organize themselves into a group;
I don't klnow why.
Then, it was only a process of stringing them together, into
something coherent, wjich told a story of sorts.
I think I succeeded, finally; I hope you will agree.
Birth sign: Not entered
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