Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
T. S. Eliot
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
When spring comes it never asks it just walks In where you last left off. The flowering, the growth. Never yielding to whether you want it or not. Every life has its seasons. I wish my life would resemble spring internally. Even with the shattering cold of the winter. The brutal heat of the summer. The way autumn leaves you bare, shedding away your pride like leafs from a tree. I choose spring in my heart and soul. You can't resist the seasons they always change,but my spring stays strong through all these days.