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What is Love?Love at first sight,
Is there such a thing?
To see someone
And love them on whim.
Can you truly love one
Who you know nought about?
Is it really possible,
Is that what love's about?
Is love beauty, is it glamour
Is it make up and hair?
Is love fickle, a mere glance
And you heart takes the air?
I do not know
What love is to you,
But to me...
Love is more than you can see.
Fighting selfconsciousnessFighting selfconsciousness
There's a girl created by the hand of god
Every bit and piece handcrafted
Given the image to the man
To create it with his wife
9 months she carried her
and since then they raised her
Now the beautiful image shaped by god
Walks with us day in day out
jaws drop and minds spin
as she walks by
Every day god throws her a mirror to show her how beautiful she is
But every day she breaks it
The girl herself cannot understand
she cannot believe the tale
So this morning once more I sit by writing desk
And hope my effort is to some avail
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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