“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Sharp Nows
They lived and died this way
worried all the while
about living right
and terrified of dying
and yet full motions
are always only temporary.
Just like thoughts
are born and die too soon...
So they too dreamt the night away
where nobody could say
it was impossible.
Living for today, they say,
be in the moment,
where you are contained
and less than aware
of faces, that look-
like yours.
Image by Howard Pyle (1888), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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