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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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