More and More
One short sleep past, we wake eternally...
More and more quietly cried
the happy-making people:
Make the happy; but be quiet.
More and more gently danced
the sad-moving people:
Move the sad; but be gentle.
More and more fiercely sang
the death-going people:
Go, go; but be fierce.
the happy-making people:
Make the happy; but be quiet.
More and more gently danced
the sad-moving people:
Move the sad; but be gentle.
More and more fiercely sang
the death-going people:
Go, go; but be fierce.
About this poem
One morning, I awoke and immediately wrote down the first two lines. The only explanation is that I must have been dreaming of Billy Collins and Dylan Thomas.
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