“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." –Chaucer
Backs turned, frozen,
Seeing only one.
Feeling the touch of two.
Feet sunk in habits,
The sun filtering down
Through things that
Distort, entice.
All is silence. Stillness.
Listening.
And our backs are turned,
We are frozen,
But we touch, we look,
We sink into habits
And cling to the chain.
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seeking sublime surrender
“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer
Verba volant, scripta manent !
In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.
Audrey Dawn
Creative Nonfiction & Poetry
by Kelly L
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE
HemmingPlay 
Reblogged this on M Circle and commented:
On pragmatism
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Thanks for the reblog!
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Welcome!
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