Monday, 30 August 2010
Walk with me,
for we have not depths
that the lyrics would have us believe
in this gentle stream and the merry dusk-light
like crimson kites, against a humid sky.
And we need
no more to survive, than this
our own heaven created,
indeed, no more,
than this nature incarnate,
and just to be.
And so we answer, “walk with me,
lie down in the grass,”
cut off the shackles of present,
and past and cherish that unworldly crash
as we go free
for here is where
you and I are seen, at our most beautiful.