Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure,
they gain the light, they formlessly entwine;
and radiant beyond your widest measure
they fall among the voices and the wine.
Leonard Cohen
Music
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It’s the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dyin’
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
That you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun’s love
In the spring becomes the rose
“What makes the vanity of others insupportable is that it wounds our own.”
❆ Francois de la Rochefoucauld 😎
Sculpture – Contemporaries – Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens
By Karen Bergquist
“I will dance
The dance of dying days
And sleeping life.
I will dance
In cold, dead leaves
A bending, whirling human flame.
I will dance
As the Horned God rides
Across the skies.
I will dance
To the music of His hounds
Running, baying in chorus.
I will dance
With the ghosts of those
Gone before.
I will dance
Between the sleep of life
And the dream of death.
I will dance
On Samhain’s dusky eye,
I will dance.”
“At the word witch, we imagine the horrible old crones from Macbeth.
But the cruel trials witches suffered teach us the opposite.
Many perished precisely because they were young and beautiful.”
— André Breton
by Al-Tutili
A lion? No: if I
More closely pry
Methinks that I must own
‘Tis but a stone.
Old Leo yonder sits,
So I should say,
And from his mouth he spits
The Milky Way.
“Flowers…are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty
out-values all the utilities of the world.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
Maverick Mist 