has always been one of the most beautiful poetry of history, in my opinion
today I was reminded
Things do not explode,
They fail, they're fade,
as sunlight fades from the flesh, as the foam drains quick
in the sand, even love's
lightening flash
has no thunderous end,
it dies with the sound of flowers fading like the
sweating flesh from pumice stone, everything shapes
this till we are left with the sound That Surrounds
Beethoven's head.
Derek Walcott
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