Pablo Neruda

The Eighth Of September

This day, Today, was a brimming glass. This day, Today, was an immense wave. This day was all the Earth. This day, the storm-driven ocean lifted us up in a kiss so exalted we trembled at the lightning flash and bound as one, fell, and drowned, without being unbound. This day our bodies grew stretched out to Earth's limits, orbited there, melded there to one globe of wax, or a meteor's flame. A strange door opened, between us, and someone, with no face as yet, waited for us there.

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