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Even when muddy your wings sparkle bright wonders that heal broken worlds.
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View the past as your enemy, and it will be an albatross. View it as your friend, and it will give you wings.
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On motionless wing they emerge from the lifting mists, sweep a final arc of sky, and settle in clangorous descending spirals to their feeding grounds. A new day has begun on the crane marsh.
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When I was engaged in the struggle for my country, I was very young. My horizons were open.
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Hopelessness sets in, when a man is bound up in his shame -- living small, within that closed horizon of fantasy and self-absorption.
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the breeze brought us a faint sound, as of a distant rat, a huge and mystic rat, gnawing, maybe, at the horizon!
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So we all embark wondering what lies over the horizon, what’s around the next bend. And isn’t that, in the end, what drives us?
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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One bright and thankful look at the cross is worth a thousand morbid, self-condemning reflections.
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Are you really angry, or simply aware of anger in the body and mind? Don't speculate, simply look at what is there.
