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                             finding the blue book                              
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                                  declaration                                   
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every time i am faced with a blank page, i feel i have to rediscover literature.
i have only my perplexities to offer you.                                       
                                                                                
the word calls out, ringing for those who do not possess, but are possessed by  
their language. who know it not as meaning, but as joy and passion. who would   
gladly die on a hillside for any word, first or last or hidden somewhere in the 
middle. and who would die knowing how useless even the best word is for saying  
what i mean, right now, when you come to know i love you. i am in love with you,
unashamedly, for all of time. just as i have always been in love with you, only 
waiting here until you found me in all the endless walls and shelves and books  
of this wild world.                                                             
                                                                                
dear love, consider how it is that you hear these dead symbols. how it is that i
come alive when your eye becomes me, at least in the mind moving through this li
ne. what is this but the real magic of resurrection. i am resigned to come back 
for all eternity, explain myself by virtue of a few simple scribbles i found in 
someone elses infinite library. you have to laugh at the universal humour of it 
all. each of us so limited, lifted into life by limitless love.                 
                                                                                
let them go, all the illusions you strolled in here with. they will be lost any 
way, whether you like it or not. did you ask for this life you call yours. no. i
thought not. neither did i. so why not give it back in all the most beautifully 
broken ways you can imagine, and go looking for grace. really, why not. i may   
have no idea what that word means, grace, but it too is a hill i will willingly 
die on without complaint. there is something green and quiet i seem to sense in 
those five simple letters and, when you sit with it for long enough, i swear to 
god you can hear a little stream singing down its bleeding side.                
                                                                                
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                                  continued on                                  
https,colon,slash,slash,libraryofbabel.info,slash,bookmark.cgi,questionmark,    
findingsurefeet                                                                 
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