Discover A New Perspective
Mist on the mountain
A veil of eternal spring,
Brings home to me; all
Wind fills fields of grass,
a sea of strands or water;
Falls with the clear rain
The foot of a mountain grows tall.
The peak of a man grows short.
Spring rain washes the dust,
Birds float from tree to tree; see
The dust washes rain
Flowers on the trees
do blossom for a day,
Though trees stand; always
When the muses leave, what is left but silence? The abysmal comfort, the unending sleep- when the muse leaves where I go to find it? With what rapture, what song- may I sing now in the day that lasts
The wanderer, the seeker All are all the weaker For they fail to see the world’s telling brand The simple sound of one hand….
I wonder, I wonder If in the depths of our slumber, We ever dream to cease our ceaseless number. Perhaps our questions are naught but answers, Perhaps answers are naught but questions, Our pride is pr
