rossetti-sand

October 2, 2025

I dug and dug amongst the snow,
And thought the flowers would never grow;
I dug and dug amongst the sand,
And still no green thing came to hand.

Melt, O snow! the warm winds blow
To that the flowers and melt the snow;
But all the winds from every land
Will rear no blossom from the sand.

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Thought:

“How hard is it, when everything encourages us to sleep, though we may look about us with conscious, clinging eyes, to wake and yet look about us as in a dream, with eyes that no longer know their function and whose gaze is turned inward.”

Antonin Artaud

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