The Journey Of Life
Beneath the waning moon I walk at night,
And muse on human life--for all around
Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight,
And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground,
And broken gleams of brightness, here and there,
Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air.
The trampled earth returns a sound of fear--
A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs!
And lights, that tell of cheerful homes, appear
Far off, and die like hope amid the glooms.
A mournful wind across the landscape flies,
And the wide atmosphere is full of sighs.
And I, with faltering footsteps, journey on,
Watching the stars that roll the hours away,
Till the faint light that guides me now is gone,
And, like another life, the glorious day
Shall open o'er me from the empyreal height,
With warmth, and certainty, and boundless light.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lamp Flickers Far
Lamp flickers far
And I follow its dull light
That falls wide through the silent forest night
Dim stars and the pale moon
A brook babbles nearby
Faint sound of birds invite the king of skies
Doors of horizon open in his honour
His men and cavillary glitter so gracefully through
As conquered they the heavens and the earth
Celebrate they the death and evil
But till the royal chariot rolls through the milky way with
Its fleet
And the majestic grandeur sets on throne
With a thousand angels of light saluting, honoring and
Admiring him
I follow my humble lamp
That guides me home...
poem by Lama Abbas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Law[Earthing On Fire]
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In the street a man shouts out loud
A wallet drops and money flies into the midday sun
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In a house a man drops dead
As he hits the floor he sighs
What a morning
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Sometimes
Earthlings (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
I dont want knowledge
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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June
I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,
"Twere pleasant, that in flowery June,
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
A cell within the frozen mould,
A coffin borne through sleet,
And icy clods above it rolled,
While fierce the tempests beat--
Away!--I will not think of these--
Blue be the sky and soft the breeze,
Earth green beneath the feet,
And be the damp mould gently pressed
Into my narrow place of rest.
There through the long, long summer hours,
The golden light should lie,
And thick young herbs and groups of flowers
Stand in their beauty by.
The oriole should build and tell
His love-tale close beside my cell;
The idle butterfly
Should rest him there, and there be heard
The housewife bee and humming-bird.
And what if cheerful shouts at noon
Come, from the village sent,
Or songs of maids, beneath the moon
With fairy laughter blent?
And what if, in the evening light,
Betrothed lovers walk in sight
Of my low monument?
I would the lovely scene around
Might know no sadder sight nor sound.
I know that I no more should see
The season's glorious show,
Nor would its brightness shine for me,
Nor its wild music flow;
But if, around my place of sleep,
The friends I love should come to weep,
They might not haste to go.
Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom
Should keep them lingering by my tomb.
These to their softened hearts should bear
The thought of what has been,
And speak of one who cannot share
The gladness of the scene;
Whose part, in all the pomp that fills
The circuit of the summer hills,
Is that his grave is green;
And deeply would their hearts rejoice
To hear again his living voice.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Human Existence On Earth
How do you define human existence on earth?
Some say our life on earth is like a journey
The journey begins from the day we are born
And terminates the day we die
Others say that our life is a school
We start learning from the day we are born
Everyday of our life on earth
There is always something new to learn
The schooling ends the day we die
Few compare our life on earth to the sun
Our sunrise is the day we are born
While our sun sets on the day we die
Our life can also be likened to a flower
The flower is planted the day we are born
As we grow up, our flower germinates
When we reach middle-age
Our flower blooms and sparkles
After we retire, our flower fades away
Life of humans can also be equated to the four seasons
The spring covers birth to adolescent years
Summer of our life begins from adolescent to middle-age
While fall season starts from middle-age to retirement
The winter of our life will be from retirement to death
Another analogy is to liken human existence on earth
To the waxing and waning of the moon
From our birth to the time we retire from active service
Can be compared to waxing of the new moon to full moon
While our life from retirement to our death
Can be associated with the waning of full moon to new moon
Whatever may be your own analysis of life?
Always live everyday to the fullest
poem by Julius Babarinsa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
On The Brook Of Right
Bang, bang, bang
Rifle sound over the brook of right.
The earth bows and sweet heavens weep.
Shout of death and laughter of happiness is craze.
Sound of red moon cry to pervert,
While scorching sun quells to leave no peace behind.
Trees over the hills marries the chanting sound of joy,
With the maim of serious rivers and dried streams.
Woes unto the wind as it strife,
To contend with breathing seas.
In the silent evening which is better than death
Is flog to die.
The sky clasp with sinking ocean,
And the wind arid to air bodies.
Bang, bang, bang
On the battlefield they sound.
Boom, boom, boom
No life, no hope and days decay with silent evening
Dying seem so long but here it homes away sweetness
As with the muggy weather and perils of Dead Sea.
Begotters weep there souls out as the fruit of their labor,
For no just cause they suffer.
Black cloud covers the beautiful light from the sun,
As souls weep in the abyss of death.
Brooding machines, fear hives as they approach,
Trotting over the very earth they curse.
As there leaders blithe with disregard for their very cause.
Boom, boom, boom
In the air they deafen.
poem by Samuel Donkor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Desperate Ones
Jacques Brel, Jouannest, Eric Blau, Mort Shuman
They hold each others hands
They walk without a sound
Down forgotten streets
Their shadows kiss the ground
Their footsteps
sing a song
Tat's ended before it's begun
They walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Just like the tiptoe moth
That dance before the flame
They burn their hearts so much
That death is just a name
And if love calls again
So foolishly they run, they run, they run
They run, they run, they run, they run
They run without a sound
The desperate ones
I know the road tey're on
I've walked their crooked mile
A hundred times or more
I drank their cup of bile
They watch their dreams go down
Be hind the settin sun
Yeh, yeh, yeh, they walk without a sound
The desperate ones
Le he who threw the stone at them
Stand up and take a bow
He knows the verb "to love"
Beu he'll never, never, never know how
On the bridge of nevermore
They disappear one by one
Disappear without a sound
The desperate ones
And underneath the bridge
The water's sweet and deep
This is their journey's end
The land of endless sleep
They cry to us for help
We think it's all in fun,
They cry, they cry, they cry, they cry
Without a sound
They disappear without a sound
They walk without a sound without a sound
Disappear without a sound
Cry without a sound
Yai, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj, yaj
The desperate ones
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon Over Bourbon Street
Theres a moon over bourbon street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
Ive no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can only show my face at noon
And youll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
Ive the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
She walks everyday through the streets of new orleans
Shes innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh youll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While theres a moon over bourbon street
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turning Off The Lights
you say, you love light, its brightness
that reveals what had long been denied to you
by darkness,
you take it, and raise it and put it at the higher place
for that should be how it must be
everything is now obvious and you begin to see
the truth, and you say, at first, that this is beautiful,
and good, and you preach about light, its brightness,
you want all those that love you to have them too
time changes, seasons come and go, tastes not just sweetness
but bitterness, this is also truth, but this is not good,
this is ugly, and all the scenes pass before your eyes,
your parents, and brothers, they are carried by this rage
of the river of time, there was thunder and lightning at the background,
there is too much lighting, and you begin to dislike
what light has given you, brightness has become too harsh
for such a short life,
there is panic and fear now, you want to run but all the doors are closed,
and the windows refuse to open,
the clouds make the rain, and rain does not stop,
the sun still shines, no promises are broken, all for your love of light,
its brightness, now getting too sharp and too jagged, they hurt
you sit alone, you let the rain flood over you, you dislike water
there is too much of it, just like light, flooding over your senses,
they are no longer good, they are so ugly,
but what can you do? you wished for it and now it is given for free.
forgetting has taken your beloved away. Such a cruel goddess.
Now you are alone. You remember the night of sound sleep.
You remember when you said, once when we were small,
You want all the lights turned off, light hurts, and you cannot sleep.
and so, i turned off all the lights now. I shall not tell you anything.
You need sleep and dreams shall be there to comfort you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire
THE wind has swept from the wide atmosphere
Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray,
And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair
In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day:
Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men,
Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen.
They breathe their spells towards the departing day,
Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea;
Light, sound, and motion, own the potent sway,
Responding to the charm with its own mystery.
The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass
Knows not their gentle motions as they pass.
Thou too, aerial pile, whose pinnacles
Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire,
Obey'st I in silence their sweet solemn spells,
Clothing in hues of heaven thy dim and distant spire,
Around whose lessening and invisible height
Gather among the stars the clouds of night.
The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres:
And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound,
Half sense half thought, among the darkness stirs,
Breathed from their wormy beds all living things around,
And, mingling with the still night and mute sky,
Its awful hush is felt inaudibly.
Thus solemnized and softened, death is mild
And terrorless as this serenest night.
Here could I hope, like some enquiring child
Sporting on graves, that death did hide from human sight
Sweet secrets, or beside its breathless sleep
That loveliest dreams perpetual watch did keep.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Watching For Shapes
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Influences now are things that are all around me
Changing shape as they move around in an open mind
Coloured in by the images I find
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
Like electric sparks they danced by an open mirror
Closing doors never looking round but its not goodbye
Theyll be there till Im taken out I know
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
In my mind theres a space thats full of painted pictures
Things I did that I went through, but cant recall
Now and then theres a flash of the unknown
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Light Of The Moon
Written by steve byrd, ricki & kim wilde
(light of the moon...)
You can't touch it
It won't let you near
You can't hold it
Cos it will disappear
You can't keep it
It don't belong to you
And when you need it
There's nothing you can do
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But i know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
So many people forget it
Set love free
Love is a river
Love is a raging sea
Don't try to tame it
Or you will watch it die
Don't try to chain it
You've got to let it fly
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But i know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Ooh you say i live in a dream
That i live in a make-beleive
But i know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Light Of The Moon (Belongs To Me)
Written by Steve Byrd, Ricki & Kim Wilde
(Light of the moon...)
You can't touch it
It won't let you near
You can't hold it
Cos it will disappear
You can't keep it
It don't belong to you
And when you need it
There's nothing you can do
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But I know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
So many people forget it
Set love free
Love is a river
Love is a raging sea
Don't try to tame it
Or you will watch it die
Don't try to chain it
You've got to let it fly
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But I know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Ooh you say I live in a dream
That I live in a make-beleive
But I know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musings
I sat by my window one night,
And watched how the stars grew high;
And the earth and skies were a splendid sight
To a sober and musing eye.
From heaven the silver moon shone down
With gentle and mellow ray,
And beneath the crowded roofs of the town
In broad light and shadow lay.
A glory was on the silent sea,
And mainland and island too,
Till a haze came over the lowland lea,
And shrouded that beautiful blue.
Bright in the moon the autumn wood
Its crimson scarf unrolled,
And the trees like a splendid army stood
In a panoply of gold!
I saw them waving their banners high,
As their crests to the night wind bowed,
And a distant sound on the air went by,
Like the whispering of a crowd.
Then I watched from my window how fast
The lights all around me fled,
As the wearied man to his slumber passed
And the sick one to his bed.
All faded save one, that burned
With distant and steady light;
But that, too, went out -- and I turned
Where my own lamp within shone bright!
Thus, thought I, our joys must die,
Yes -- the brightest from earth we win:
Till each turns away, with a sign,
To the lamp that burns brightly within.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Illuminate
My dearly beloved shadow of light;
My light when the day is dead
Receive and keep me in your brazier,
Receive me your resident lost.
The gorgeous light that illuminate earth evermore,
Like a wide open, sleepless eye forever
The light whose breath is fire;
Oh, master over the ever darkening night,
Sometimes, I reach to touch you;
Will I burn, or be bright as day?
With your light other lights illuminate
And returns to their first position
Like triangular stars before the fall
Like the light that extinguishes thenight;
Smooth as a king's way,
Riding in your chariot ever shinning;
With your light I am blest.
Who shall behold you my ideal light?
The stream from which bright waters flow
Those abiding in your light most holy
My guerdon is a noble fame; for
To turn away from you is the beginning of death.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Road To Hell
It’s not that I didn’t love you.
I only knew how to love my way.
My needs, my dreams, my expectations.
The result was my disappointment and my big mess.
If I told you I was wrong and you were right all these years.
Would it make any difference to you?
When the shoe is on the other foot.
You get blisters and blisters hurt.
You can always walk in my footsteps.
I hope you don’t fall where I fell.
Same path, same pitfalls.
I hope your sight is better than mine was.
A painless path to journey down.
It is easy to not see the damage when you are blind to others.
The road before me was a mirror.
My reflection was all I saw.
A lot of back tracking.
To get where I am now.
The journey back was painful.
As I walk past all the destruction I left in my wake.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Intentions are the sole property of it’s holder.
The best of intentions, the greatest of expectations.
Disappointment always disappoints in the end.
When I sought what I didn’t have.
When I sought what I thought I wanted.
I lost sight of what I had.
A thief will steal your jewels when you aren’t watching.
It’s not what you don’t have, you need to protect.
Because you don’t have it and you may never.
There are no guarantees in life.
Rather than being satisfied, we risk it all though.
Was it worth the risk to me?
What was the pay off?
What did I lose?
The stakes were higher than the payoff.
The payoff was regret, shame and loss.
That is what I walked away with.
If life was a game, I’d be a winner.
But life is not, so I lost.
Selfish love takes everything it can get.
When it walks from the table broke and broken, it is bitter.
Selfless love gives all it can give.
When it walks from the table broke and broken, it is just happy it played.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Wide The Dawn
How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!
And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
The owl was still a-calling
To spirits wild
Perhaps
Or long white ghosts
Perhaps!
And in the eyes
Of the pale moon
The lake nearby glistened:
How white
How thin
The rays that fall
In midst of the dark waters!
And from the lake
A soundless sound
Is coming:
For in the waves
And from the waves
There comes a little gurgling
And in the night
In the long night
The owl is speaking, speaking!
Ah! this night – in the night
The people in the house
Are all a-sleeping
I – only I
The vigil, the night-vigil
Am making:
And I
And only I
Will my reward receive
For I
And only I
Am seeing
For I
And only I
Am hearing
And I
And only I
Am feeling!
How strange how sere
The feeling!
How from the clear night
The mist of sudden riseth!
And from afar
Past ten long fields
The cemetery is burning
With the pale light
Of the swift moon
That fall
On every wall
This long, long night!
It seems
It seems
That the cemetery’s open:
And yet
And yet
There is no noise
No sound
But from the yews
A soundless sound
Is coming:
A restless sound
Like souls
This night all-aching
And restless
Restless
At some thing
I am not hearing!
Ha! We on earth
Make prisons
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them:
And we on earth
Make cemeteries
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them
And the long night
Under the light
Of heaven
How waning-blue
And tight
Is coming!
So:
At long last
We fall into a prison
If not the one
In fine to the other
And at the last
And in the last
We enter our last prison:
And in the night
The long and lonely night
The cemetery is shining!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midsummer Midnight Skies
Midsummer midnight skies,
Midsummer midnight influences and airs,
The shining, sensitive silver of the sea
Touched with the strange-hued blazonings of dawn;
And all so solemnly still I seem to hear
The breathing of Life and Death,
The secular Accomplices,
Renewing the visible miracle of the world.
The wistful stars
Shine like good memories. The young morning wind
Blows full of unforgotten hours
As over a region of roses. Life and Death
Sound on--sound on . . . And the night magical,
Troubled yet comforting, thrills
As if the Enchanted Castle at the heart
Of the wood's dark wonderment
Swung wide his valves, and filled the dim sea-banks
With exquisite visitants:
Words fiery-hearted yet, dreams and desires
With living looks intolerable, regrets
Whose voice comes as the voice of an only child
Heard from the grave: shapes of a Might-Have-Been -
Beautiful, miserable, distraught -
The Law no man may baffle denied and slew.
The spell-bound ships stand as at gaze
To let the marvel by. The grey road glooms . . .
Glimmers . . . goes out . . . and there, O, there where it fades,
What grace, what glamour, what wild will,
Transfigure the shadows? Whose,
Heart of my heart, Soul of my soul, but yours?
Ghosts--ghosts--the sapphirine air
Teems with them even to the gleaming ends
Of the wild day-spring! Ghosts,
Everywhere--everywhere--till I and you
At last--dear love, at last! -
Are in the dreaming, even as Life and Death,
Twin-ministers of the unoriginal Will.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nocturne
The earth, still heavy and warm with afternoon,
Dazed by the moon:
The earth, tormented with the moon’s light,
Wandering in the night:
La, La, The moon is a lovely thing to see—
The moon is an agony.
Full moon, moon rise, the old old pain
Of brightness in dilated eyes,
The ache of still
Elbows leaning on the narrow sill,
Of motionless cold hands upon the wet
Marble of the parapet,
Of open eyelids of a child behind
The crooked glimmer of the windown blind,
Of sliding faint remindful squares
Across the lamplight on the rocking-chairs:
Why do we stand so late
Stiff fingers on the moonlit gate?
Why do we stand
To watch so long the fall of moonlight on the sand?
What is it we cannot recall?
Tormented by the moon’s light
The earth turns maundering through the night.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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