Of all the songs that I could have written this morning, I wrote of love song.
I reminded me of Basileia 2008. I was out in the woods by the lake, and I end up writing this poem about love letters. I have no idea why. It's not particularly good. In fact it's actually a bad poem. But now that I've biased you, I'll share it.
I cannot stop writing my love to you
Day and night lose meaning behind closed blinds
Time is the height of a candle
And though I tire my love will not rest
I have no appetite for food
And so I write
page after page
with both hands.
At the same time I wrote what may be the best poem I've ever written, which has nothing to do with love. But I'll save that for another time.