Young men who chase after ghosts amuse me,when I fight through haunted night to keep them at bay.I want to say, “Just give them time; they’ll arrive,”but I don’t want to spoil their fun. Tissue frays; sharp becomes fuzzy. Night falls.Look straight ahead, not side to side. Shades gather.Don’t make eye contact or answer, or […]
via Young Men Who Chase After Ghosts — A Small Blue Marble
We called the little tree a special name
In the woods where we were wont to stay
A nutmeg tree is rare like porcelain
We loved its hanging branches blue and green
If only it were red it might be grey
We called the little tree a special name
We asked for tea but nutmeg was disdained
I often wonder whether I am gay
A nutmeg tree is rare like porcelain
I have paranoia,I’ve been framed
I want to sell my laughter on E bay
We called the little tree a special name
I split my heart and mind,I sulked in vain
I passed my darling notes so he could pay
A nutmeg tree is fine like porcelain
Then we went to bed and lost our brains
Our nipples froze, stuck on the window panes
We called the little tree a unique name
Like grains of sand, the words we count in vain
A silence rich with love and full of joy;
The silence after waking at the dawn,
Can be both an anchor and a buoy.
Yet often we don’t know what we seek for:
The latest dress, the perfect English lawn?
We forget this marvellous essence, forget joy
We murder by ignoring love’s deep core
We do not see the buds which are newborn.
We want an anchor yet we want our toys.
What is most arresting is the awe
We feel when we see human love again
Find silence rich with thought and full of joy
Out of Nature, its Creator calls
Taking in his arms what caused us pain.
Being both an anchor and a buoy.
The silence underneath the silence calms,
Stills our breathing with reviving balm.
Perfect silence, rich with love and joy
Shall be our anchor and shall be our buoy.
