Smooth harmonies
to a waiting ear
that cups itself,
just a little,
to better receive
slow, blended melodies.

Strange beauty,
yet you draw soulless,
from a stagnant pit
of condemned stars and
mass of night.

(Jude 1:12 NIV- These people are blemishes at your love feasts, eating with you without the slightest qualm–shepherds who feed only themselves. They are clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn trees, without fruit and uprooted–twice dead.)


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