Dawn creeps over a thousand dead. |
As the battle ends. The day begins; The older soldier is riding now. The rider hides his colder brow. The wind exhales her first sigh, And a breath skims the surface feathers Of silence...
Posted by on Mon, 28 Aug 2006 21:03:00 GMT |
Your Closest Stranger |
I met a girl when I was young
She knew the sounds that slipped my tongue,
Has your singing ended yet?
No, Ive only just begun
She took me by my trembling hand
And carved our names into the san...
Posted by on Tue, 23 May 2006 22:22:00 GMT |
Love, Itself |
Love itself is the spark of life,
And life is a twinkling eye.
Love itself will seek and find
All those, before they die.
Tho they may not know or see,
When the hand so gently knocks,
Drawn to...
Posted by on Wed, 12 Apr 2006 10:24:00 GMT |
Good and bad, two ways of moving about your death.. |
Note: Please read very slowly, allowing yourself every sound, every image your mind sees with each word, each sentence, each pause..
Habituality is the death of life, of essence, caught up in consciou...
Posted by on Sun, 26 Mar 2006 06:22:00 GMT |
Teachers |
I met a woman long ago her hair the black that black can go, Are you a teacher of the heart? Soft she answered no.
I met a girl across the sea, her hair the gold that gold can be, Are you a teacher o...
Posted by on Sat, 04 Feb 2006 02:46:00 GMT |
My muse, she brings spring |
Spring is here again
Not long ago it seems
My heart was buried under snow
And overrun with fallen leaves.
And you are so quiet now
Voice of the winter sun
The harvest of your rays have ...
Posted by on Sun, 08 Jan 2006 08:05:00 GMT |
interesting.. kind of.. |
as leonard cohen once said.. i'm just a station on your way, i know i'm not your lover..
i'm just a person on my way, i know i'm not a buddhist..
the three fold way is just word, its not the rea...
Posted by on Fri, 30 Dec 2005 16:51:00 GMT |
