Saturday, September 09, 2006

Joy of the Evening

8 September 2006, 11:48 PM

I'm sitting at the south end
of a north bound statue pondering
an evening spent laughing and laboring,
inspiring and idling with heaven's finest,
loving all there is to love

and wishing in some part of me
that there were ways to see them
so much more clearly than I did
tonight. The cricket crawling at my feet
does not cause recoil as it might
if I were not intent upon appreciating
the finer moments of the night,
enjoying the company of so many angels
and the milder stages of intoxication,
avoiding the line beyond which
I've gone to far.

Can I love more than I've loved;
want more than You've given tonight?
There's a forlorn moment that comes
in the solitude; silence descending
in the aftermath speaks sadness to me
as the crickets chirp;
cicadas chirrup their lullaby
and I say goodnight, knowing
there are others for whom
the joy of the evening has only

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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