The Letters
So sad we do not write the letters
to sweet beloved or our friends
We have the other themes and fetters
We are on way in search of sense.
It would be good to scrawl on paper
The words for them just simple words
Not like the debt, not like some favour
Without the points but with thoughts.
To say I love through fear of shyness
And not to eat them as a beast
To be like angels in their kindness
Without the roaming in the mist.
So sad but we don’t write the letters
The other themes have grown for world
The other genius and fetters
Another idol who is cold.
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