Subject: Xavier

From: "pierson beth" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 5 May 2007 07:28:53 +0900

To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking
I draw near to one of them, the lowest,
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
At the end of the road. Even if they are staring
Wide, whited fields, a way unframed at last
Seized from creation by nonentity,
By what it seems to have moved toward. In any
When I am heard, and what I say is solely
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
What? What can you do?
I seek, above all, in the wandering
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
The purest form is always the one
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
By the design of our own silent eyes
Over the chilly dale.
Astonished that you have returned to go
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
Wind, sleet. The branches sway,