A million summers ago I was the youngest son
in a humble home with seven brothers, and it was spring
as long as I could remember.
I sat in the fields by day, gr...
Help her! – somebody – quick!
That is the rasp of the dying.
She’s lain dormant for ages, and decay lies in her bones –
Complacency seems to be her place of dea...
It was in
the red poppy
that took me down
that lane again
when I’m standing near a corner garden
and the light turns
walk Walk!
the window screams by
but I’m st...
a constellation of hopping hillocks
jetting round with buds
unveiled a prayer—
like an ineffable effusion of fir trees
the scent of a holy breath
sown among the...
the day is yet unripe
and so we clamor to our knees
to beg a little loving light
a little crack of light
to break through the prismed panes
that surround us.
s...
So, lately it seems
I travel less
on that road less travelled,
by the way
because, you see
these dreams of mine
they scatter at the sight of day.
So tell me, p...
I have always been depressed by the idea of being merely a "pretty good" person. Before I was a Christian, I identified myself only according to characteristics that I considered wholly good (and even noble) - the parts of me that appreciated things outside of myself that I thought were good, like nature or another person. That was the "real" me, but I had no way of reconciling this desire for goodness with poorer components in my character, such as selfishness.
