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:
Beautiful Brooks.
Hmmm...lovely and thought provoking....I have a lot of experience with being drunk with ghosts of my own longing...
Have a goose bumps from reading this! Gracias mi amiga!
Very nice Brooks! Seems poetry is catching lately :)
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