Thus, like the skin <br />of a shorn ewe, the day rises. <br /> <br />It is difficult to skin the self from a stone. <br />It is difficult to skin memory from a Greek. <br /> <br />But why should we talk about these! <br />After all, <br />light too has a skin, <br />light too can be skinned... <br />So <br />light too is guilty of being. <br /> <br />A gust of fresh air <br />comes with the millenium. <br />We are beautiful; <br />why should we not be beautiful? <br /> <br />We eat one another <br />only from hunger, <br />from adoration, <br />from structure, <br />from love. <br />It doesn't matter. <br />We are what we are, <br />that is, beautiful. <br /> <br />I carry my ever still blood <br />in my heart. <br />I carry my ever salt tear <br />in my eye. <br /> <br />I carry the angel in the middle of heaven.<br /><br />Nichita Stanescu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ascencsion-of-words/
