Password


The secret passage to unknown bliss
Carries that feeling of a kiss
Which in the mind turns like a tongue
Forgetting even what it would have sung.
Everything gets nailed to building careers
As fonder equities fall into arrears
In the general accounting of quantities
Forgetting how we were made by deities.
Two bits swinging mean nothing no more
Except for a quickened sense at the core
Of yet another unreasonable union
Of huge numbers crunching like onion
Making grown men cry silently at night
Gazing fixedly at the moving misty light.

Bevagna, 25 11 2008