If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

-George Herbert

Thursday, June 23, 2011


No one would drop her sleep,
No one her dream unveil;
My love would tear her milk,
Unleash her bare desire.

Her smallest breath undone,
Celestial fires uproot;
The running of Spring's sun
Wind down into the earth.

Until this leaf display
The emblem of her peace,
I never rest my soul,

Consider no release;
Request not, nor require,
That which would make me whole.

-by Wayward Disciple

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