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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 *
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4 comments:

  1. LauraAugust 20, 2010 at 8:03 AM

    Beautiful Brooks.

    ReplyDelete
  2. YogaforCynicsAugust 20, 2010 at 8:26 AM

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

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownAugust 20, 2010 at 9:36 AM

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

    ReplyDelete
  4. AnonymousAugust 20, 2010 at 5:34 PM

    Very nice Brooks! Seems poetry is catching lately :)

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for commenting! Please make sure it is responding to something in the post, rather than a general question that is unrelated to the topic at hand. XO -Brooks