IN THE GARDEN...
... it comes to me
there is nothing
left, nothing
left to do,
nothing left
to say, nothing
left to believe,
nothing left
to be. You might
think this despair,
but no, it is more
like liberation;
you might think
this the end; it is
in reality
the beginning.
1 comment:
This one has a step-stone rhythm and reads so many ways. Lovely
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