Joy in the Journey: Finding Laughter and Miracles in Very Dark Places
Enjoy this time Spend time in with others, in groups. Hear the winds and rain.. Let it sit in you And as you walk in nature with each step remember to let go a bit of the control, of the things that no longer serve you. And once you do You will dance into the heart of Spring. Blessed be your day in joy,. F ebruary Happy Chinese New Year of the Pig.
Happy Year of the Earth Pig to you! This coupled with artistry and creativity makes the year very colorful as many new ideas will be birthed and we will all be more interested in forms of artistic expression. This is a highly social year with more parties, more fun and, more enjoyment. A year where communication is key and is very much about "our voice", our inner confidence, facing our fears, speaking up, but not hurting another by our words for at times lines of communication may get crossed, or things can be said out of impulse, thus feelings can be hurt, and a parting of ways can happen easier.
This is key this year; else many relationships will break off for no reason. Being mindful in all communications and coming from a place of honesty will help resolve all issues early on. The Pig and her love of family make family and our key relationships central to this year. Pig years favor all forms of gatherings and new friendships and networking as well. The year also supports learning languages as well as foreign cultures and concepts. This is a year where many will travel to places they have wanted to but never have before.
The optimistic Pig is hopeful and sometimes unrealistic, this coupled with its challenged eyesight may make things sometimes not appear as they really are. The psychic sense and other strong sensory organs of the Pig are what she will rely on this year to navigate her way in this colorful terrain.
This is the year to trust or listen to our inner voice rather than what we see. Very sensitive, psychic at times, and naive, the Pig is the golden child of Chinese Astrology.
Full of wonder, enthusiasm, and affection, the Pig is an honest being, loyal, determined and at times stubborn! Not liking to be out of its comfort zone, the Pig has a difficult time with change and can get passive about things. It is important to be proactive in our goals. At times we may feel lazy, or not feel we want to focus on the tasks at hand, during those times, take a break and then continue with your goals. A year that is not focused as much on work but on inner fulfillment, doing the things we love to do. A year of extremes from food, to money, to fun, it is important to not overdo things, but to allow balance.
Pig years are typically known to be abundant years, however, the extreme financial weather this year can be seen in the stock market. Opportunities come this year, and if not grabbed they move out fast. This is due to the fast mercurial energy sometimes seen in the 3 Year. Needing more sleep than other years, needing to watch our diets, and attending to health habits is another focus of this year.
All the animal signs will enjoy the year of the Pig to various degrees. For the Pig itself, this is a big year, of change. Although there will be challenges there will be much progress. For the Rabbit, this is a great stellar year. For the Snake it is a year of challenges and change, as it is the opposition of the Pig. Best to not be too ambitious, and at times lay low. I have put below a keyword for each animal sign to focus on for this year. Below the Animal Signs is a link for the animal sign calendar and times of birth.
Also please be sure to check the side panel for my recommendations on Tools for the Year. This can greatly guide you on how to best navigate. Rat: Focus. Ox: Learn. Tiger: Patience. Rabbit: Confidence. Dragon: Compromise. Snake: Energy. Horse: Pace. Sheep: Artistry. Monkey: Honesty. Rooster: Knowledge. Dog: Joy. Pig: Trust. Access the Animal Sign Calendar Here. No matter what your animal sign is, enjoy this year! Take time to rejuvenate, walk in nature, be creative, and spend time doing the things that feed your soul with those you love!
Sit as the Pig in the wonder of it all, in the childlike belief that all is possible, that life can be magical, and rainbows can appear. And as always anchor yourself in meditation, prayer, and affirmations January Happy New Year. Enjoy, embrace, and allow. Strengthen your meditation practice So my dear ones, how exciting is all this? How invigorating to begin with the winds of the Universe guiding our way? This month the dog makes its final walk in its own terrain creating breakthroughs and big splashes until it finds its rest in early February.
The dog will deliver each of us "our bone", gifting us, awakening us after a year when things for many did not happen easily but required much effort. And in this gift, we further awaken within us, to new dreams and a possible new life direction. As was a year that was emotionally driven and required patience to navigate, is about the moment, the joy, finding our laughter.
I will speak more next month about 's Year of the Pig, but for now, we are still hosting the Dog. Two eclipses are present this month, and the numerology of the month points to karmic patterns, possibilities, unforeseen opportunities, and clarity. It is the end of this month that many will have this resolve, this clarity and from then on it is about creating the steps to fulfill your new direction. The year begins with a bang! January may possibly be the most powerful month of the year although the ending months of will be powerful as well!
A Happy and Healthy to each of you as we begin the year very powerfully in January. A year where we will face our fears, overcome them and walk in a more joyful stride. Look for revival among the broken, humble and lowly, and start at the bottom with ministry to the poor. God chooses the weak and despised things of the world to shame the proud, demonstrating His own strength and wisdom. Our direction is lower still. This third value is expressed in the way we started our ministry. Our third value is looking for revival and beginning ministries — not always, but as a general rule — at the bottom and not the top.
The people others have given up on. But when we first came to Mozambique, that four-million people group was considered by missiologists with their scientific research methods as unreached and unreachable. We were told by the most educated missiologists in the world that we were wasting our time, that we needed to go where the fish were biting. And that had been their history. In the beginning they would just as soon throw rocks at us as listen to us preach.
That was what it was like when we first got there. Go to places that nobody cares about but God, and then God gets the glory! I have love that is only mine. And, we are always learning to stay more humble. I think the greatest single message she ever preached was in Pensacola during the Brownsville revival. The Holy Spirit so took over. Considering who we are as created, fragile human beings, there is no response we can give to God other than to go lower still. Lower still is the only way forward. When you go lower still, the only thing to do after that is to go even lower.
Someone asked him once why he traveled third-class on trains. And his answer was because there was no fourth class. Yes, God does bless us. Go to the least of these. Start at the bottom. Be a vessel of the kind of love the world has never seen before. Aim for impossible things. Aim for the things that only God can bring about. Go to the very bottom of the heap.
Go into the dark places, the hard places and the dangerous places. Give away your life, jump off the cliff! We understand the value of suffering in the Christian life. Learning to love requires willingness to suffer for the sake of righteousness. With Paul we rejoice in our weaknesses, for when we are weak we are strong.
Her mother was furious for years. She hated me for exposing my wife to all those dangers on the street. We were criticized. We are not about to tell people that if they get into tough stuff that they are doing something wrong. You need to find out if you really know God and if you really appreciate His purposes for us on earth. We can afford to do without a few things if necessary to see God have His way.
The problems is, sometimes we make up our idea of what His way is. Of course we want His will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. But His purposes down here are what we want to know. And His purpose is for us to know, and learn by experience, what are the differences between good and evil; to develop His character and His quality, and to have something to celebrate. We feel that He suffered so that He could save us from our sins and give us a heart like He has so that we can live the way He lived among evil opposition.
And then we get our reward. And then we can enjoy heaven. And we do get down payments on heaven now, and I would like lots of those! We would like our bases to be as much like heaven as possible. But I recognize we also need to be willing to be proven to the glory of God if necessary. The joy of the Lord is not optional, and far outweighs our suffering!
In Jesus it becomes our motivation, reward and spiritual weapon. In His Presence is fullness of joy, and with Paul we testify that in all our troubles our joy knows no bounds 2 Cor. It is our strength and energy, without which we die. I keep asking people, what would you rather have than joy? Well, yes! The outcome of the Christian life is joy, and, in particular, the joy of a child who is not worried about anything. Imagine going to a place like Africa that is torn up by severe problems and talking like this!
If they needed it, and if Jesus needed it to go through with the Cross, then we need it too!gimoconleafahr.ga/diagramas-amparo-penal-directo-e-indirecto.php
Meet The "Young Saints" Of Bethel Who Go To College To Perform Miracles
Without joy, life is meaningless. Joy itself does not hug you in the night. You have joy because you have Jesus. Neither do we chase influence directly. Neither do we chase success, or evangelistic church growth, or signs and wonders directly either. Signs and wonders, and all these other things, are just tools from God that we use to love people. She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window. Which of the young men does she like the best? Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.
Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,. The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs. The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,. They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch,. They do not think whom they souse with spray. The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market,.
I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down. Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,. Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire. The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,. Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,. They do not hasten, each man hits in his place. The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain,.
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over his hip-band,. His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead,. I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there,. In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing,.
To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,. Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble,. They rise together, they slowly circle around. And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,.
And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,. And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else,. And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me,. And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me. The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,. Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation,.
The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,. Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky. The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,. The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings,. The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,.
They scorn the best I can do to relate them. Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,. Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses,. I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out. What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,. Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,. Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,.
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,. The pure contralto sings in the organ loft,. The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp,. The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanksgiving dinner,. The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong arm,. The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready,.
The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches,. The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel,. The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and looks at the oats and rye,. The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,.
He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript;. The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by the bar-room stove,. The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat, the gate-keeper marks who pass,. The young fellow drives the express-wagon, I love him, though I do not know him;.
The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,. The western turkey-shooting draws old and young, some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs,. Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece;. The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee,.
As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them from his saddle,. The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their partners, the dancers bow to each other,. The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron,. The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut eyes bent sideways,. As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrown for the shore-going passengers,.
The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister winds it off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,. The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago borne her first child,. The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,. The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him,.
The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,. The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, how the white sails sparkle! The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray,. The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, the purchaser higgling about the odd cent;. The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly,.
The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled neck,. The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other,. I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;. The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries,. On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms,. The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold,.
The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,. As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change,.
Book - MarciaGrace
The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar,. In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers;. Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground;. Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in the frozen surface,. The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep with his axe,. Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood or pecan-trees,. Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or Altamahaw,.
Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grandsons around them,. The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,. The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife;. And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,. And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,. And of these one and all I weave the song of myself. I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,.
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,. Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,. One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the largest the same,. A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and hospitable down by the Oconee I live,. A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the limberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,. A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,.
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;. At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with fishermen off Newfoundland,. At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,. At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the Texan ranch,. Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, loving their big proportions,. Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake hands and welcome to drink and meat,.
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,. A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,. Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,. A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,. Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest. I resist any thing better than my own diversity,. The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,. The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place,. The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place. These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me,.
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,. If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,. If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing. This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,. With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them. And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea! And to those themselves who sank in the sea! And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes! And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known! This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,. It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make appointments with all,.
I will not have a single person slighted or left away,. The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,. There shall be no difference between them and the rest. This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair,. This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,. This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,. This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has. Does the daylight astonish? I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. Who goes there? How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat? What is a man anyhow? All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,. I do not snivel that snivel the world over,.
That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth. Why should I pray? I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones. In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,. And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them. To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,. All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means. I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,. I see that the elementary laws never apologize,. I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,. And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,. And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,. I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait. I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,. The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,.
The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,. And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,. And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,. Have you outstript the rest? It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on. I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,. I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!
Still nodding night—mad naked summer night. Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love! You sea! I resign myself to you also—I guess what you mean,. I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,. I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me,. We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land,. Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse,. Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths,. Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea,. I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.
Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation,. Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them? I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also. What blurt is this about virtue and about vice? Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,.
Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy? I find one side a balance and the antipodal side a balance,. Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine,.
Poems and Prayers
Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start. This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,. What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such a wonder,. The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel. And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse. Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all,.
That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all. Hurrah for positive science! Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac,. This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches,. These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas. This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this is a mathematician. Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling,.
I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling. Less the reminders of properties told my words,. And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication,. And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt,. And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that plot and conspire.
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,. Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,. No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,. Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs! And whatever is done or said returns at last to me. Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index. I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,.
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.
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Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,. Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,. And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff,. And of the rights of them the others are down upon,. Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung. I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,. Copulation is no more rank to me than death is. Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,. This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it,. Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you! You my rich blood! Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you! My brain it shall be your occult convolutions! Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you! Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you! You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you! I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,. Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,. I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish,. Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again. That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,.
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,. Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding,. Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,.
The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,. The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master! Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me,. If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me. We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun,. We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak. My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach,.
With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds. Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself,. It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically,. Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation,. Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?
The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,. I underlying causes to balance them at last,. My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things,. Happiness, which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day. My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am,. Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,. I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you. I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face,.
With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic. To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it. I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals,. I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice,. I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following,. Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night,. Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals,.
The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick,. The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence,. The steam whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars,. They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin. It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast.
A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me,. The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full. The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies,. I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath,. At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles,. Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,. I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,. They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me. I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,.
Is this then a touch? Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,. Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,.
My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself,. On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,. Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,. Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,. Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist,. Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture-fields,. They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the edges of me,. No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger,.
Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while,. Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me. The sentries desert every other part of me,. They have left me helpless to a red marauder,. They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me. I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor,. I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.
You villain touch! Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me. Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward. Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital,. Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden. They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,. They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,. The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,. I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps,. And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman,. And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other,.