When I gaze backwards, towards that starlit, woven span the canopy of life, and all its former fruits that fell to me, like blazing comets, as I’ve ran through time’s orchard, my feet stumbling about the roots from which I’ve grown, I shudder at each fumbling attempt I’ve made, to catch the brightest stones, that seared my clasp And shrink in shame, facing my failures to pre-empt that which must fly from all anxious efforts to grasp Yet days come where the luster of each skyborn gem shines through the scarred, scorched flesh of my aching palms intertwined and clears a conduit, whereby I feel anew the divine sting with which their absence pricks my mind then love and letting go come clear as one to me and memory’s rapture saves my life from vanity
Posted on: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 11:18:26 +0000
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