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"Duende"




I quiet my conscience.
My soul - glued to the sight,
the sound,
the taste -
My fingers ache...
they begin.
I steal my way
to the clearing
without remorse -
it is mine now.
Some primal flow
steals its own way
through my veins...
I become its slave.
The rest...
is duende.
ˇbaile! ˇbaile!
:iconice-man-ak:
ice-man-ak Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2002
I like it.
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:iconshoobydoowap:
shoobydoowap Featured By Owner Nov 24, 2002
Beautiful. And the picture that goes along with the poem is awesome, I love it!
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November 24, 2002
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