today, I got to see you and you
and her and you and them and you
today I was me, the me I understand,
the me I am comfortable with. It was the
i , that was happy to be there creating, planning
cultivating, building, designing....it was me
I heard you laugh again, it was I that was happy
again.........this is me when I am wool and wool
is me
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THE SADNESS OF THE MOON
by: Charles Baudelaire
HE Moon more indolently dreams to-night
Than a fair woman on her couch at rest,
Caressing, with a hand distraught and light,
Before she sleeps, the contour of her breast.
Upon her silken avalanche of down,
Dying she breathes a long and swooning sigh;
And watches the white visions past her flown,
Which rise like blossoms to the azure sky.
And when, at times, wrapped in her languor deep,
Earthward she lets a furtive tear-drop flow,
Some pious poet, enemy of sleep,
Takes in his hollow hand the tear of snow
Whence gleams of iris and of opal start,
And hides it from the Sun, deep in his heart.
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