The wild and windy storm
That couched us in its arms
The cradle soft and warm
Disarm the inevitable
Beneath our shaded lids
We hid on triumph's hill
Beneath the undermountain
The caves drip dark and deep
In long-forgotten fountains
And we are a reclused people
And the stars in the lost sky
Are our church steeple
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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