Beneath old leaves
on the cold ground,
they stir and move
without a sound;
life, new and green
and faintly glowing,
toward the sunlight
gently growing.
- mce
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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Merely a holding cell for journal entries, wry observations, attempted witticisms, poems and random aphorisms. Sense of humor required. This is poetry, NOT biography. Please do not call 911, stage an intervention or suggest AA. Everyone deserves their own death, allow me mine. Tentative conclusions encouraged. Advice ignored. Absolute truths not welcome. Enlightenment unlikely. Play on.
Beautiful!! this could be turned into a song too.
ReplyDeleteWell, as I've said, use it if you can. I don't own this stuff. I don't really even write it. I just channel it. It simply shows up. But I am glad you liked it.
ReplyDeleteI agree--thanks for sharing or for being a channel as you say...beautiful
ReplyDelete