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Unformatted text preview: d the waltz played on. I saw finally the futility of all these gestures, that witchcraft is but a matter of focus-that one can apply one's fierce and immeasurable energies to an act of choice. I would come back! I would come back. I sang it out to the walls. Come back. Beware the watchers in that hour! Yes, come back in that hour! Else shall Eden have no Springtime. Else shall our kind reign no more. Michael, remember now all the verses I've told you. Remember. See what they say! Michael, I tell you I would not be here if the battle were over. The hour we speak of is yet to come. You have used love, yes, you have done that and it was not enough. But there are other tools you can use. Remember the poem, "crude and cruel." Do not hesitate when you see it. Do not let the goodness hold you back. Why else have I been allowed to come here? Why else have I been allowed once more to hear that waltz beneath this roof? In a moment you must play it for me, Michael, my waltz, my little Victrola. Play it when I am not here....
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10