& love is an evil word. Turn it backwards/see, see what I mean? An evol word.
when the glory night envelop the moon that would light up the exhilaration of heart..the sun was reluctant to reveal smile to warm the earth..when the fire burn until the wood becomes charcoal yield and melted into disappointment..the earth will always embrace the rest of the wood by the fire burning in her arms..then it's me and you in equation narrative prose deep and glorious..
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when the glory night envelop the moon that would light up the exhilaration of heart..the sun was reluctant to reveal smile to warm the earth..when the fire burn until the wood becomes charcoal yield and melted into disappointment..the earth will always embrace the rest of the wood by the fire burning in her arms..then it's me and you in equation narrative prose deep and glorious..
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In the moonlight and under the stars Somehow your face seems clearer I revere your presence and remember We are warriors Thrusted onto this plane We are strong We must use our strength While bearing compassionIt's easy to get lost This place makes it so easy to get lost But- In the moonlight and under the stars Somehow your presence seems clearer And I remember We are warriors
I do understand that they fall when I'm least able to pay attention because poems fall not from a tree, really, but from the richly pollinated boughs of an ordinary life, buzzing, as lives do, with clamor and glory. They are easy to miss but everywhere: poetry just is, whether we revere it or try to put it in prison. It is elementary grace, communicated from one soul to another.
As long as music survives, poetry will never die.
Great writers experience their dreams. They put them on paper, where others can read about them.
My only wish is to be buried with my books.