Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Wednesday, November 15, 2017


In the darkness
the cold gathers and embraces

and the stars sparkle
so alive and so distant


and in this place
the hungry ghosts
the demons of the soul howl

all the voices call
why is it am I here
where is it I will go

when I die
will I just disappear
quickly forgotten

Voices from the old days
From the future

Does anyone care?
Does anyone really care?
Enough to invest time, and love
In this meager soul

Under the clarity of an October sky
So many questions,
The answers
I don’t know

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