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Drag what can be saved
Even of the daily sleaze
Onto the page to preserve
Whatever Beauty has touched.
Salvage from the fear
And funk and slime the pure
Song and make it sing
On the page, as you turn
Your face to the sea
Breeze to breathe.
Okay, so, at times,
despite all you do,
Delight, Beauty's firstborn,
Will die in your arms.
Nonetheless make the bed
For her, dude. You must
endure
All in its time, for all
The terror that comes
In human form is yours
To convert to moments
Of true ecstasy,
Alive at last in your life
As well as on the page
Of white red-lined paper.
Because souls are thin as
paper
But impossible to tear. And
Because we are stupid,
Mortal. Celebrate and
Make the best of it.
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