Friday, August 20, 2010

...nothing falls but into life.

Perfection: Men of
dreams. You came to disappoint.
Painful lessons learned.

Imperfection: Hope.
Dreams shine. Heart yearns. Door opens...
Unknowing and free.

Seeing life. Fallen
tree enchants. Struggle appears
worthy now. Love speaks.

Love: Have you entered
me as a ghost of my own
longing? (Drunk with it.)

How to begin when
the fallen tree looks dead? See
the sparkles. Believe.

* Title of this post comes from a poem by Wendell Berry *

4 comments:

Laura said...

Beautiful Brooks.

YogaforCynics said...

Hmmm...lovely and thought provoking....I have a lot of experience with being drunk with ghosts of my own longing...

Janice said...

Have a goose bumps from reading this! Gracias mi amiga!

svasti said...

Very nice Brooks! Seems poetry is catching lately :)