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| A stumble and fall
More than my toes are broken.
More aches.
More bleeds.
Need to learn how to walk again.
So much is falling away.
Still I hear you calling my name.
| | |
| Vaguely seen through the veil of self;
the Way is not manmade.
Unraveling: snagged by time's splintered hands
I stride forward into what is right.
Listening to the Logos allows for walking on water
with my feet, beautifully calloused by the burden.
Questions about water, running, and running water? | | |
| Rediscovered on the back of an envelope in a box -
Heartbreak is addictive
tastes bitter, feels open
leaves you prone
heals love's blind eyes
and you see
reds and black make blue
Heartache is restrictive
tastes nothing, feels closed
leaves you hungry
for love's blindness
when you know
reds and black make blue
I have changed my views a little -
This heart is captive
tastes sweet, feels free
never leaves
for Love can see
when I cannot
reds and black made white | | |
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`Would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, `why you are
painting those roses?'
Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a
low voice, `Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to
have been a RED rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake;
and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads
cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore
she comes, to--'
At this moment Five, who had been anxiously
looking across the garden, called out `The Queen! The Queen!'
and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon
their faces. | | |
| Clarion call.
Muffled imbuement from within.
Steady just the same.
Not the same, but more and more.
What I am. Should be.
Swarming self-interrogation.
Denial of the dream.
You the Same, and more and most.
What I am. Should be.
Answer played on clearest tongue.
Investment in this time.
Still some shame, but less and less.
What I am. Should be.
Footfalls slow on untouched soil.
Everywhere my home.
The fuse aflame at least; no less.
What I am. Should be.
Here, the plan is Yours and mine.
Once lost, is now exhumed.
I've taken aim; more or less.
What I am. Should be. | | |
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