Saturday, January 17, 2009

State of grace

She has the eyes of one who's seen
amazing love disappear
around the corner quick full pace
and corners can be death-trap bends
for he who travels far from grace
But grace can stand and wait, you know,
many corners hence from now
but, oh, the trials, the sheer disgrace,
of turning, turning, turning,
like a madman on a spinning top.

It's fun to spin though round and round
and, of course, round, round, again
but finally we all must stop
and stand as one unsteady
before wisdom's awesome door.

And in that moment, days, months, years,
the momentum of the past will grow
and spin the traveller back to base
to start the turn, turn, turn, again
unless, unless, unless to grace
he bows before it is too late.

Too late is strange; it could be now,
it could have been just yesterday
but all who spin must surely hope
love forsakes the corners, bends,
and reclaims its state of grace!

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