This language which can take
any form can enter any body
this beautiful evening
easing into the room
I try to hear your words
moving toward me again
hidden in all these gestures
I did not say treasures
a post-literate world
could only have pictures
the horses in the caves
now faces in the waves
I could take your hand
and put it on my face
it would tell you all
I think of you.
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