There's an old saying, "I know they say that first love is the sweetest but that first cut is the deepest." Whomever came up with that, must have been a sadistic idiot. After the first cut, why would you want to punish yourself with additional cuts? You keep going down that road, eventually you'll get dismembered.
Tania PennTag: dawn the-morning-star
Over the vistas broke a cold gray light, such as seen in those false dawns that are neither night nor true morning, when the world and all its contents seem but shapes of mist, formed in vain hope and desire... If you awake from troubled sleep at such a time, you can only sit by the window and think of those that have been lost to you, those that followed your parents into those cold and heartless regions below the grass, silent and dark. Eventually, morning comes and the world resumes its solidity, but another tiny thread of ice has been stitched into your heart forever.
K.W. JeterTag: death heart grass dawn ice heartless mist false-dawns gray-light vain-hope-and-desire
Bright morning comes; the bloody-fingered dawn with zealous light sets seas of air ablaze and bends to earth another false beginning. My eyes open like cornflowers, stick, crusted with their own stale dew, then take that light.
Iain BanksThe Dawning
Ah! what time wilt Thou come? when shall that cry,
The Bridegroom’s coming! fill the sky;
Shall it in the evening run
When our words and works are done?
Or will Thy all-surprising light
Break at midnight,
When either sleep or some dark pleasure
Possesseth mad man without measure?
Or shall these early, fragrant hours
Unlock Thy bow’rs,
And with their blush of light descry
Thy locks crown’d with eternity?
Indeed, it is the only time
That with Thy glory doth best chime;
All now are stirring, ev’ry field
Full hymns doth yield;
The whole Creation shakes off night,
And for Thy shadow looks the light;
Stars now vanish without number,
Sleepy Planets set and slumber,
The pursy Clouds disband and scatter,
All expect some sudden matter;
Not one beam triumphs but from far
That morning-star;
O at what time soever thou
(Unknown to us,) the heavens wilt bow,
And, with Thy angels in the van,
Descend to judge poor careless man,
Grant, I may not like puddle lie
In a corrupt security,
Where if a traveller water crave,
He finds it dead, and in a grave.
But as this restless, vocal spring
All day and night doth run, and sing,
And though here born, yet is acquainted
Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted;
So let me all my busy age
In Thy free services engage;
And though (while here) of force I must
Have commerce sometimes with poor dust,
And in my flesh, though vile and low,
As this doth in her channel flow,
Yet let my course, my aim, my love,
And chief acquaintance be above;
So when that day and hour shall come,
In which Thyself will be the sun,
Thou’lt find me drest and on my way,
Watching the break of Thy great day.
Tag: love god dawn second-coming
Please let me know if I am not here
Let me know if I fail to find you there
For before the dawn I leave the night behind me
And before my heart I let you leave me behind.
Tag: love poetry dawn behind poetry-quotes
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IV
REVEILLE
Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.
Wake: the vaulted shadow shaatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.
Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
"Who'll beyond the hills away?"
Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.
Tag: sleep wake dawn a-shropshire-lad
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n,
and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light
Tag: poetry sun heaven stars poet dawn new-day sunrise persian end-of-night
I? I am the wind,’ said Thowra. ‘I come, I pass, and I am gone.’ The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange voice said tartly: ‘And are your sons the same?’ ‘My son is the lightning that strikes through the black night. My grandson is light that pierces the dark sky at dawning.’ ‘Ah,’ said the first emu, ‘and we know your daughter is the snow that falls softly from above and clothes the world in white. You want but the rainbow — that is and was and never will be, and is yet the promise of life — and the glittering ice which is there and is gone: then you and your family will possess all magic.
Elyne MitchellTag: magic wind snow lightning dawn ice rainbow
All night the earth and the heavens followed their usual arrangements. Stars passed: an immense tide hung over them. A silent sea raced back with the sun, its wave turn-over small, delicate and comfortless. The most glorious of all stars hung above the sun's threshold and went out. An hour later the sun governed the earth again, mist-chasing, flower-opening, bird-rousing, ghost-driving, spirit-shepherding back out the various gates of sleep.
Mary ButtsTag: day nature stars night dawn sunrise the-death-of-felicity-taverner
La poésie se fait dans un lit comme l’amour
Ses draps défaits sont l’aurore des choses
(English) Poetry is made in bed like love
Its unmade sheets are the dawn of things
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