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  • This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils
    to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step
    without feet.

    Jalal ad-Din Rumi

    I live on a street called Wilderness.
    It is just north of Solitude,
    and runs parallel to Discovery.
    Last night it snowed
    and now the cars float by
    as though we had never been introduced.

    Several times a day I look up at the sky.
    I see words falling down:
    adjectives, verbs, nouns.
    This morning I saw a "ceremony" and a "balloon."
    I see whole sentences.
    They remind me of you.

    You live on a street called Mysterious.
    It is in another town.
    I would walk over to see you
    if I knew the way.
    You are like some strange beautiful secret.
    I am afraid to get too close.
    Once, just after midnight,
    I thought I heard you breathing.
    Or was that just the wind in the elms?
    (Photograph by Alex in the 3-D virtual world of Second Life)
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