Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June: All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon, Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst. Come away in twilight and let the echo ring We haven't any
Can a cup of tea And quiet respite bring health And life to the bones? It soothes and softens Like gentle rains in Spring: Fire against the cold. postscript DFC day 14. The Sedoka: based on questions and answers, syllabic count of 5,7,5-5,7,5. kiwi-damnation.deviantart.com/
A thousand years have passed And parchment, scrolls, are dust. Back into the earth goes truth Lost for those to come. The teacher spoke a truth- it burned Bright at first, now faded. A thousand years have passed. The monk in silent thought Wrote words in blood and ink And
Light of glory, light of love Glowing in the fallen snow, Warming hearts like hands in gloves. Take the light and with it, go Run like mad to light cold hearts. Little warrior, make it so. Do your eyes enough impart The urgency of joy this is? Burn like you&
I know thee, the known The knower and the thought. You are all my own And the narrative, sought. The knower and the thought Become one, overthrown Like a fortress, wrought Of sacred flesh and bone. You are all my own My self, my mind, a knot. This dark undertone,