Thursday, October 8, 2009

How lovely is this place

Brother, some water please? I am ill and sick and unable to move. I hear the crisp hills just beyond and my limbs ache to climb their tumbled slopes. Move, brother. Move so that I may move through you. Tonight we are here. Tomorrow night, we may be here still. And the night after.

Brother, why do you cry when you look into my eyes? I am alive now. I will always be alive, and so will you. Together and forever we will love as we lie on this hill and look at that hill. As I die slowly, peacefully.

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