Hungry Fingers

Why fret about loss?

I keep my fingers playful

Tickling the small black cubes

Creating doors of crystal embossed

Filligree inlaid

To caress and trace with my hungry senses later

I promise

To keep this alive for myself

And the special few lovers of sense

Lovers of contemplation and vision

Who forget, like me, that It is Now

And the past deserves not such energetic attention

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