untitled
By bartman
The hall clock strikes two daylight filters through a crack in the doorway to where i lie Useless, indolent with rest, all ambition sucked out and clear through me. And i wish to be a monk wish for time and work, and hours of prayer to make meek that which is fearful and insecure when all confidence, the power of knowing dissipates, like greenery in summertime: it doesn't stand a chance. I want to weave the sunlight through my body like water does catching and absorbing the strands of life. I leave the house and pick that rose in the garden. Maybe she will share her grace. Written August 30th, 2001 © on Aug 29 2001 06:31 PM PST 0 • 10
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"The hall clock strikes two..."