Posted in Uncategorized, tagged "Poetry",, Beginnings, Endings, Happiness, People, Relationships, Stories, Verse, Words, Writing on June 29, 2012|
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When you go to the bottom of the well
In sadness scrabbling the deep ooze and
Mud scrambling around below
The talk then is of the climb back up but
There are sometimes valuable things down there
Peopled from times past
Reasons to go down
The echo of words spoken of those who went before
Their history hopes and dreams now spent for themselves
But cast there not to be weighed down and hold fast the present
But given for us to find
A safe ballast
With twisted golden torc through free
To other lands
Our future theirs
Their dreaming hands wrought twists
Living longer than flesh
Dreaming remains
Golden summer or winter night
Livings loud delight
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