7 Ille mi par esse deo videtur* O, it is godlike to sit selfpossessed when her chin rises and she turns to smile; but my tongue thickens, my ears ring, what I see is hazy. I tremble. Walls sink in night, voices unmeaning as wind. She only a clear note, dazzle of light, fills furlongs and hours so that my limbs stir without will, lame, I a ghost, powerless, treading water, drowning, sucked back into dark unless, rafted on light or music, drawn into her radiance, I dissolve when her chin rises and she turns to smile. O, it is godlike! *(s)He seems to me to be equal to God=Chris Daniels
=Chris Daniels