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Literature Text
where crossing rivers can be made to count
against the value of all we hold dear
in spite of all that’s known at the frontier
where hope and learning are held paramount
no one would wait on those who’d dare remount
for the long journey of the pioneer
made by the awkward and the most sincere
who have their truths to keep and to recount
no voyage matters this at last we learn
except to those who never need the map
the ones excepted from each changing trend
those are the masters who will always yearn
to hear our answer yet not give a rap
since all must come out equal in the end
Literature
a tribute to robert frost
I have been one acquainted with the night,
and that has made all the difference.
one aged man--one man--can't keep a house,
but I am done with apple-picking now,
and miles to go before I sleep,
so now and never any different.
"you'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen,
like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves-"
can't a man speak of his own child he's lost?
like pearls, and now a silver blade,
and dead wings carried like a paper kite,
nothing gold can stay.
something there is that doesn't love a wall;
truth? a pebble of quartz? for once, then, something.
the clever eyes of my wandering child,
heart not averse to being b
Literature
The Wanderer
I met the Wanderer once, in my travels. She was on foot, and I on a horse; her pack looked heavy, her sword sharp, her eyes shallow, and so very gold. Her tongue traipsed over words like a dancer, and her lips, when she smiled, were like the bend in a river: fluid and lithe, but gone in an instant as I passed on the current.
Would she sup with me? She would, and she and her melodious tones sat with me to share what I had, which was sufficient. We talked; I told her of my home and my wives, and the honey that I carried to the winery. I told her of the valley I lived in, and how green it was, how blue the mountains could be, how the river cut
Literature
Accept your Candle, Weep for the Stars
A light I see, far off in the distance. It's a star, I told myself.
No other thought surpassed it, I want to reach it.
I struggle in the darkness, slowly heading for it, not knowing, not thinking.
I know this is what I want. I want the star.
It gets brighter, I can feel its warm touch, though I'm far from it.
Joy overwhelms my soul, I'm so close, so close to
my star. It's my star and nothing else matters.
I reach with my fingers, to touch it.
A candle. A lowly candle, my thoughts shattered.
This is not what I wanted. It's not my star.
I blink, and blink again, I see clearly. Up above.
There are hundreds, no millions of stars.
Why
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