I want to speak to you in ancient tongues, with words you won’t understand.


I want to sing to you songs of longing that were old when Caesar died. 


Listen to me.


Not to my words, but to the truth of my presence.


Listen to the stories my voice recites, the ebbing and flowing of my tone.


I want you to see the words in my eyes, and feel the sentences my touch presses into your skin.


And then, when I stop, I’ll wait for you to answer me with your voice, with your eyes, with your hands and lips.


~ by arkhilokhus on April 12, 2008.

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