10.10.06
dochira kara
Rilke’s trees, their fire coloured hands laying finger spread on the ground, they do not resist their coming sleep. See how delicately they prepare, with their golden toilette, sliding at last into a silent nakedness? They strip off their ball gowns before you.
Perhaps that is why once inside the coldness feels warm. In your fight, you lose; you shiver under layers of other animals’ skin.
Reconcile yourselves.
shi-ou-sama at
