And I am now out of coffee, but all caught up. See you tomorrow.
To the Moon
Flooding with a quiet mist,
from bush to the valley's river,
at last unloose my wandering soul
to whispers glowing silver.
Spread your light across the fields
in quiet bliss, send the grace
of an old friend's mild eyes
to drift beside my fate.
The echoes of my beating heart
haunt me with both joy
and pain: so goes the weight of time
with solitude's rough noise .
Flow, dearest river, flow,
Pleasure's never coming,
and so with merry play and kisses,
and with faith admiring.
Long ago, I held it all–
that precious kiss. Such pain,
yet gladly does the water fall
never to forget.
River, rush along the valley
free from rest and calm.
Rush, and whisper melodies
for my moonlit song.
Music of the winter’s night
when you drown your banks,
Or springtime's joyous opera
with buds on every colored branch.
Blessed is he who without hate
unlocks himself before
the world. Blessed is he who has the heart
to stop thought and savor
what man does not know, or does not consider:
And blessed be he who,
through the labyrinth of the soul,
wanders in the night.
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