.
.
Well there it is. There's nothing to do.
The cat steals the milk and it's gone.
Then the cat steals you, and you're found
Days later, with milk on your face.
.
That implies that you become whoever
Steals you. The trees steal a man,
And an old birch becomes his wife
And they live together in the woods.
.
Some of us have always wanted
God to steal us. Then our friends
Would call each other, and print
Posters, and we would never be found.
.
~ Robert Bly
.
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