Posts
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Carrying a torch
Love, to me, is an ember.
A soft, warm, glowing thing.
(A fragile, fickle, flickering thing.)
And as I hold it gently,
sputtering in the crease of my hand, all I can do is beg it to grow, to burn brighter; -
Heart taking root (Soul in flight)
Each year I set out, with spirits so high;
with a smile on my face, a not-yet-weary sigh,
to wrestle the earth and make love to the sky,
and revel in all that is living.
The long trail, it beckons, its promises sweet, -
The twin that even I forgot about
Looking through old notebooks, I found a poem about the same metaphor, but with a different energy entirely. It's older, so obviously not my best work, but still a pleasant surprise I'd like to share.
Iron bars and burlap sacks, -
January
All of me was wrong that day,
when I woke up
in the late afternoon, with the blinds wide open.
The snow shined up,
The clouds glared down,
And the trees reached both ways into the searing emptiness, -
Paper wings (broken dreams)
In the valley of the mind, a dream takes flight. It rides the wind, dipping and twisting on the path of a starling, and slows naught for the doubt that nips at its glowing heels. The moment it leaves the ground, the valley is its own.
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To swing and to shine
When I was young,
I had a brightness
that I took with me everywhere I went.
I had a restless body, boundless energy,
and a wandering mind of dreams and schemes.
Everywhere I went, I loved with my head and with my heart,