Becoming Still in the WanderlustA Poem by Angela MulleyIf all my life I have been destined to walk this path, then I am destined to become it. From the early morning spring, to the late of winters night, with my too tiresome feet there is a stillness in the changing of seasons. There is a constant. Something I can't explain. And you, rustling in autumn leaves, who knew about the spring in your step even before you opened your eyes? As each day we approach the welcoming skies. Freely we listen to the songs of the road, and presuppose it's lines.
© 2010 Angela Mulley |
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1 Review Added on December 6, 2010 Last Updated on December 6, 2010 AuthorAngela MulleyRUNCORN, North West, United KingdomAboutInfinity, regardless of what the human mind might think, exists not merely without time, but without the individual concept of time too. And while this concept would not exist without an individual mi.. more..Writing
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