Journal:
-------------------------------------------Mood: contemplative
Is there beauty in the underbrush?
Where October leaves become the feast of roots
Where the worms toil like farmers under foot
Where beetles and brethren gather unseen
and make ready the dead, picking bones clean.
What beauty there is in the underbrush!
The roving earth miles and miles deep
but on the shallows of its face life knows no sleep
and each its part unknowing plays
like cogs of a clock, in fixed turns, unwitting they stay
The beauty of the underbrush is in the order of things.
...Created 2008-05-08 22:54:34 [ View Past Journals ] [ View as Blog ] |
)
Currently Stalking: 
Last 20 Submissions
