Words for words' sake.

I thought of this today. It applies to nothing...

Your body,
soft hum of the mind
within it
wander in and out of
mine.

...but it could, I suppose. I've always wondered about that sort of thing when analyzing literature.  Scholars have amassed endless amounts of subtle interpretations of great works.  If they hadn't, English majors would probably be out of luck. But I find myself staring at pages, wondering if this or that long-gone novelist wrote for the potential meaning, for the sake of their words, or for a specific message.  I'm okay with not knowing.


I have an Organic exam tomorrow, so goodnight.
I leave you with Ray.  I couldn't find a video to post, but you should check out his cover of 'Eleanor Rigby.' I don't think you'll regret it.