Monday, August 27, 2007

Turn of Night

6 September 2004
An older piece, one of my favorites that never made it to the blog.

Sit alone, embracing sounds of night:
cicada buzz and cold moonlight.
Ruminate on moment's bliss,
weep once more for innocence;
tender, rocking lullaby,
waving eves of yore good-bye.

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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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