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Hungry Fingers
Why fret about loss?
I keep my fingers playful
Tickling the small black cubes
Creating doors of crystal embossed
Filligree inlaid
To caress and trace with my hungry senses later
I promise
To keep this alive for myself
And the special few lovers of sense
Lovers of contemplation and vision
Who forget, like me, that It is Now
And the past deserves not such energetic attention
