A Parisian chorus of letters and shapes

Chasing the dark to capture the starlight as it leans,
Tempting the kiss that marries the sure to the transient,
Form to the fleeting, the now to the meeting of soon.

With the thrust of the pigeon’s wing the moment is missed –
The hidden eclipse of the tower and misty refraction is wished away.

Yet I will say
“Not Today,
But Tomorrow.” For I shall stay
Not my will to seek that which flees,
I shall stay not my need to see that which breathes
Life to the lungs of my soul
I shall stay not that which feeds and relieves and upheaves the passions of my heart!
So tomorrow again I shall start
And I shall say
I shall!

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