Monday, 30 April 2012

through all the small astonishments

having eyes wide open means not that they necessarily see. it involves nothing except the pull of the bone white moon and, amongst other things, water. through all the small astonishments our imperfections will fall in love. they play with infinity; give each other rings for forever. the broken white shell of the bird's egg; the fragility and the miracle. blood written poems, the sincerity of, touch places dead hands cannot reach. and metaphorical feet that when still keep moving. to arrive, through all the wanderings which were never a rehearsal, almost where you should be.

4 comments:

Jane O Sullivan said...

beautiful and hope -filled piece of writing , thank you

Ritva said...

the fragility and miracle, yes indeed!
thank you!

Anita Cella Celic said...

<3 to you C.

Wingfall at dusk said...

As enigmatic as the bone white moon and water... and, oh, the wonder of movement along strange paths to the place where we are meant to be...