Life's next play
November 19th 2007 09:26
Unworn, I can see through the picture; paint
Draws the image in my mind, a landscape
In which I walk. There are no trodden paths
To follow, but the breadth of my heart’s yearn.
Somebody else draws me a picture; paint
Draws another image in my mind; done,
It cultivates its own world; paths trodden
Which, with my own thoughts, I cannot follow.
Unworn, we talk about a way; painted
On a Sunday afternoon, our picture;
I can walk that way, with you, and you I.
Unfinished; our symphony; our surprise.
The sky sets my dreams among the stars; bright
Is the night sky even when I cannot sleep; far
The night falls close; I reach up; I am near;
With starlight I can see; an unworn picture.
Draws the image in my mind, a landscape
In which I walk. There are no trodden paths
To follow, but the breadth of my heart’s yearn.
Somebody else draws me a picture; paint
Draws another image in my mind; done,
It cultivates its own world; paths trodden
Which, with my own thoughts, I cannot follow.
Unworn, we talk about a way; painted
On a Sunday afternoon, our picture;
I can walk that way, with you, and you I.
Unfinished; our symphony; our surprise.
The sky sets my dreams among the stars; bright
Is the night sky even when I cannot sleep; far
The night falls close; I reach up; I am near;
With starlight I can see; an unworn picture.
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