I am still well looking.
Much as I've found this night or that walking up one street or down another (you never find anything that way, you find everything that way), much as I've got on my plate, can I help looking for at past over the next beautiful thing what else is out there, over the moon, over the stars?
Oh, I know I can stop, I can quit whenever I want.
Oh, I know I can stop, and it's when I'm allowed
To look at the One Fixed Point where I want to look and look and look
Whenever I want to look
And not look away.
But until that permission, (so close and yet so far from other permissions, up in frames)
Eyes slide, slide away.
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