Thursday, November 01, 2007

Less Than a Poet

1 November 2007, 7:53 AM

I need quiet,
or this gift dissolves
and I become less
than a poet.

In silence I
sit, therefore; ponder
where I’ve wandered since
the last words fell

from my pen; found
voice outside myself,
affirmation and

I can’t recall
when last, where nor why
I found time to weep
or laugh or fly-

no mystery
I find myself oft’
dying, not knowing
now how to live.

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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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