So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.
So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.
Long live the weeds that overwhelm My narrow vegetable realm The bitter rock, the barren soil That force the son of man to toil All things unholy, marred by curse, The ugly of the universe.
He is the end of things, the final man.
The indignity of it With everything blooming above me, Lilies, palepink cyclamen, roses, Whole fields lovely and inviolate, Me down in the fetor of weeds, Crawling on all fours, Alive, in a slippery grave.
What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance.
God bless the roots! Body and soul are one.
The following are empty synonyms:
man and beast
love and hate
friend and foe
darkness and light.
And everything comes to One, As we dance on, dance on, dance on.
What we need is more people who specialize in the impossible.
I came to love, I came into my own.
I came where the river Ran over stones My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.
Let others probe the mystery if they can Time harried prisoners of shall and will. The right thing happens to the happy man.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.
And what a congress of stinks- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
Love begets love. This torment is my joy.
And I may be, some time.
Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.
Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
A mind too active is no mind at all.
The soul has many motions, body one.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go.
Love is not love until love's vunerable.
May my silences become more accurate.
Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.
All finite things reveal infinitude The mountain with its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, The afterlight upon iceburdened pines Odor of basswood upon a mountain slope, A scene beloved of bees Silence of water above a sunken tree The pure serene of memory of one man, A ripple widening from a single stone Winding around the waters of the world.
Time marks us while we are marking time.
I learn by going where I have to go.
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
A lively understandable spirit Once entertained you. It will come again. Be still. Wait.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.
All lovers live by longing, and endure summon a vision and declare it pure
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories