At midnight tears
Run into your ears.
Slipping in blood, by his own hand, through pride,
Hamlet, Othello, Coriolanus fall.
Upon his bed, however, Shakespeare die,
Having endured them all.
Goodbye, goodbye!
There was so much to love, I could not love it all;
I could not love it enough.
You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth,
You have said my name as a prayer.
Here where trees are planted by water
I have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret,
And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say.
The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place?
Louise BoganTags: journey mystery end beggining
Perhaps this very instant is your time.
Louise Bogan...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.
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