take my hand and climb with me…

sixty one degrees: ‘fractured from the fall…’

Two ~  Ryan Adams

sixty one

Moon waning, lightning’s heart root. Night shadows germinate, and bloom. Sharp lines blur and fade. Groping, directionless. Blindly waging wars, project outward the broken. Upon a mirror world, blaming glass reflections. Harm to self, becomes harm to others. No peace without, until peace within. Fissure cleft between extremes, of dark. And light. Our essential selves. Split. Soul’s great work: embrace. Solder a vessel to bear, terrifying totality. Of life. Or love. To close with compassion, little eyes. And open to, an eternal I.


And I wanna go home…

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This entry was posted on November 30, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , , .


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