And bury the dust of the failing wisdom :: Song of the day

Keep art alive; art by Alison Casson

“There’s a shake with the shock,
and a gift off with them.
They carry the dust of the failing wisdom.
for you there’s not any warning,
for you there’s not any warning,
and love is five in the morning.”

Sleep is often so fleeting. She comes in and kisses my eyelids lightly, pulling me into a watercolor dripping and dizzy sense of a dream. There is always music there, and sometimes I can step my own steps within all of it, wrapping arms around translucent bodies of light, and love. But sleep, she is a transient thing, coming and going with a fevered touch, electric, but so quickly gone. Five in the morning, with the darkness still covering each and every spot of the room, I sit within it and contemplate everything from candy flavors, unread book pages, and love.

The questions, they hover in the heavy morning air, lighting it up before the sun decides to grace it all with morning.

Star Bodies :: The New Pornographers

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