Blind! Blind! We run to the feast!
The one we love the most is the one we know the least.
Stems and flowers! Orange flowers and roots in the way
And the dark forest blooms in darkness and the darkness breathes
And the blues singer sings: “Do you know what I say?”
Do you know what I say?
The round darkness hurries overhead
To eternity—an eternity not quite dead,
An eternity that curls and purrs and lies on the floor
With you, and you whisper, and there is always more.
There is always more.
You were good for me and I was good for you.
It was because we were bodies believing they were new.
Trapped between narcissism and the unique,
I found you so beautiful and strange, I could hardly speak.
Blind! Blind! We draw near the feast!
The one we love the most is the one we know the least.
