Sonntag, 30. Juli 2017

White Angel

Traveler's tears wounded memories
Hand's full of days, these were the ways
You looked for home
Pale paths change marking out the way
Into the grace of day

Traveler's tears, wounded memories
One hadn full of days
One hand on the cold hard ground
It's as they say:
It's coldest before the dawn
As the cold hard ground
Would signify

White Angel, White Angel, give me light
I have passed such a long time
In the cold dark night

My bruised and burning eyes
Await their dream of morning
Put your hand to the plow
Dry your traveler's tears
Lick your wounds
Dress your memories
In woodbettany
It's as you'd own:
It's coldest before the dawn
And in your bones
You know the way back home

My bruised and burning eyes
Await their dream
Of morning


Dienstag, 25. Juli 2017

Busy work

At a certain point,
feeling afraid
is a bad habit
from when you thought
being afraid
would somehow
Here’s the thing
you should know:
it doesn’t.
Feel free to stop
any time.

- storypeople -

Donnerstag, 20. Juli 2017

Little things...

I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things...
I play with leaves.
I skip down the street and run against the wind.

- Leo Buscaglia

Shared with Floral Bliss

Dienstag, 18. Juli 2017

Secret heart

The secret is not in your hand or your eye or your voice, 
my aunt told me once. 
The secret is in your heart.
 Of course, she said, knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

- storypeople -

Mittwoch, 12. Juli 2017

Best of times

I’d like to leave you with something valuable, she said.
You probably already have, I said,
but we take most of our lives to remember that,
even in the best of times

- storypeople -

Dienstag, 11. Juli 2017

Scraps of magic

These are little scraps of magic & when you paste them
together you get a memory of something fine & strong,
she said. Sometimes it takes till you’re 40 to see it though.

- storypeople -