Let not my Will by this world be broken; There is beauty to be found in man's words, But it lived before the first words spoken, And is found more still in the song of birds, In the gentle flutterings of butterflys, And their graceful dancings amongst flowers, In the tender soft moth-breath of babies sighs, In the Elysian fields of stilled hours. Let me enjoy Silence's perfection, Protect me from those who cannot just exist And view Silence as needing correction, If needs be, I'd be alone, in it's midst. Sole uncomfortable one can befall, Is the Silence, by other's, cut too small.
hi this is very lovely so calm yet i feel an urge to scream to let go and be free of a madness that this world creates....the loneliness but needing to be connected to the world.... again great words here i enjoyed reading this poem.. lovenpeace from saff.
Well! I came on again here today to post this, forgetting I had done so already, and discovered myself to be already logged in. Confused, then this!...five responses to a poem I forgot posting, and not a sour one amongst the bunch! Well, that's glory for you, and unlike Humpty, when I say glory, I mean "That's a surprising but pleasant turn of events". That's nice to awake to. Might I just add, RiversClearwater, that is one fine & marvellous beard! I'd love to grow a beard, but alas, a week of non-shaving, and parents & friends alike complain, and that's only at the appearance of stubble. Well-grown, and well-worn to you is all I have to say!
Well, I stand corrected & sit down embarassed. The sentiment remains though...it takes a man with a beard, spiritual though it may be and not existing physically, to post such a picture as a signature. If only my beard, spiritual or physical, were as shaggily well-kempt!
