this planet of toil and expiation
was not made for our pleasure
though one could be derelict about purpose here
swayed by the beauties of earth and sea and sky
flowers of the land
birds of the air
stars beyond our sky
and all of it mirrored
in every corpuscle of our blood
oh how being alive can resolve itself beyond joy sometimes
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
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