I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that
thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other.
But
the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
and
I thought
it must have been the quiet
candlelight
that filled my room,
it must have been
the first
easy…
The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it canchange. A silkworm eating leaves
makes a cocoon. Each of us weaves
a chamber of leaves and sticks.
Silkworms begin to truly existas they disappear inside that room.
Without legs, we fly. When I stopspeaking, this poem will close,
and open its silent wings.
(submitted by jtlovelady)
(Source: pleaseholdmecloser, via mylasturlsucked)
(Source: femburton)
Toy Story, Tom Whalen
(Source: harrisonfords)
(Source: fassyy)
