Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Slighted Lover

3 June 2008, 8:13 AM

There she stands
in the doorway. Light spills
into my mind as I turn, take
a moment to embrace
the Words, rediscover me.

I sit and search, scrawl the words
like prayer proffered in the private
hours of the morning, quietly
in secret places of the heart,
leading the Faithful further up,
further in. She comes and I
do not turn away. I understand
we are one, the Slighted Lover;
the Poet and myself. I had forgotten.

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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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