The slave’s dungeon is black,
The way of things is iron, cold and hard,
But in some corner of your prison yard
There may be an old carelessness, a crack.
The path is like an arrow, deadly straight,
But in the cracks is God, who lies in wait.
- Borges
The way of things is iron, cold and hard,
But in some corner of your prison yard
There may be an old carelessness, a crack.
The path is like an arrow, deadly straight,
But in the cracks is God, who lies in wait.
- Borges
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