Trying to make sense of some thoughts...
In what world,
what wisdom,
at the outer edge of a lovely oasis,
rich in color,
and living,
fertile spring that does not dry,
globes of hanging fruit from trees shaded,
their leaves broad shelters,
like stars whistling in the breeze,
laughter on the wind,
such peaceful nights of rest,
does one look out into that vast distance,
so lonely,
so full of impossible intrigue,
turning his back to the garden,
to walk alone into those endless miles?
02.18.10
what wisdom,
at the outer edge of a lovely oasis,
rich in color,
and living,
fertile spring that does not dry,
globes of hanging fruit from trees shaded,
their leaves broad shelters,
like stars whistling in the breeze,
laughter on the wind,
such peaceful nights of rest,
does one look out into that vast distance,
so lonely,
so full of impossible intrigue,
turning his back to the garden,
to walk alone into those endless miles?
02.18.10
In the world where cries hang on the cliffs edge like honey on a nipple tipped cold and hard, licked soft and softer than the honey, where foals frail and goats gurgle blood's clothed wolf, steeped in sheep and hungry for nothing but a goose's golden toot.
ReplyDeleteThis is the very world I was looking for
ReplyDelete