Walking on Water

It’d been one day too long since she’d written,
She’d been missing by the lake in the dark.
Telling secrets to the stars that would listen,
Mixing metaphors out late in the park.

She spoke of trees that walked on the water,
Cried for tears that fell from the sky,
And one day she fell in the river,
Wishing for the hope that would never die.

She had cried too many long hours
Swept away too many tears
When too many wolfs came in her tower
She knew she had wasted all the years.

For so many years she had devoured
In so many endeavors she found
She had cried and sung on the shower
Alone, alone, and unbound.

But at last she was sick of the staircase
That was hid from so many eyes,
That hidden portrayal of all her life once was
And the guise that she had became.

That was how she became all she could be
That was how she wrote the long tale
Of all she had missed and the first boy she kissed
And the sorrows she hadn’t left behind.

So become all you could be and would be
Give away your tears and your fears,
Come close rock in the willows of Wigby
And give way, give way, to all the new years.

Inspiration By Faith

“An essential function of genuine beauty, as emphasized by Plato, is that it gives man a healthy “shock”, it draws him out of himself, wrenches him away from resignation and from being content with the humdrum – it even makes him suffer, piercing him like a dart, but in so doing it “reawakens” him, opening afresh the eyes of his heart and mind, giving him wings, carrying him aloft.”

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