By umbra
Date: 6 November 2000
excerpt from an email
I am a sinner. Tis well known. You wonder why no word comes through.
Think perhaps I have forgoten you. Think that I meant not a word I'd said, that perhaps your image was never in my head. You're wrong.
This effervescent shadow that comes and goes with passing weeks, this rush of words intwined with verbal deserts makes you weak. Weak because you wonder if ever you had touched my soul...but I say no fear...For tonight I'm on a roll.
This twisting passage above may make you wonder, with eyes awide; or perhaps it makes you slumber. Perhaps the reason for its viscous life is unclear, if so then open your eyes and hear. Tis but a poor and sorry explanation of my absence, which I do make. And opon this bet for forgiveness do I lay my stake.
I met you, virtually, in a neon bar,
Your soundless voice, that burning star,
did capture me and tight enthrall,
like gentle claws on eagle cruel.
A spinning paradox of humanity born
from human inovation, borne
by flecks of binary energy
through air,
and over sea.
Though far and strange you may have been,
though your visage still I have not seen,
stanger sill that familiar being
our words did mix and intertwine
with naught but wit our virtual wine
and then longer,
over time.
And even now I write,
in unrelenting ignorance of you,
such words that still I can maintain are true.
You are.
And that is all.
And so am I.
But that,
is,
enough.
peace.
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