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Thursday, December 15, 2011


“Life is nothing but a continuing dance of birth and death, a dance of change.” Sogyal Rinpoche

Le Petite Mort

Death is handed
to each word
that slips carelessly
from your lips
like the tongue
of a knife
flaying the inside
of my beating heart.
Those words are
a public pillory,
a tethering noose--
each held hostage in
the brain of my
silent voice.
Words define us…
as my actions
are my birth.

1 comment:

  1. Dark and harsh words are so powerful ... The tongue of a knife flaying my heart passage, for a shining example...powerful.


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