Tournoiement de beauté

Beauty is like the moon
moving all the humming heavens to an angels voice.
The way the stars with their wounded knees and scared bodies burst
into endless songs.
Perhaps it’s you swaying in the air to all
the songs you know and do not know
turning modest flowers loose,
Or
Is it I? At the end of the telescope
admiring the way you
Sway.

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