To dwell in clouds of leaves
And drown in seas of grass,
To smell rich earth and the
Sharp fragrance of the sky,
To have lakes for mirrors
And the plains for a bed,
To draw up and spread with
The trees and run deep like
The valleys, to live and die
Under the fierce gold sun:
These are enough, and yet
Not enough. They are the
Wish, but not the desire,
The choice, but not salvation.
No comments:
Post a Comment