past the point of no return

love those little earthquakes of joy may they shake always at the mountains of sorrow. Craig

I like the imagery these lines create: "little earthquakes of joy and mountains of sorrow"

some of us seem to make it back again and again we call it creation, we call it art yours is enchanting, Anna. your Proprietress

I am listing here a poem inspired by this poem of yours above. People can be as tough and as tender as the white/brown shells of egg. Perhaps I was a bit too enthusiastic in the writing which fallows. I do hope you will find it a grace to you. The best before date is now past. Fatigue wears and frays upon my hand, my breast. I have lived and somehow died amidst superlatives of coloured shards; reflecting glitters like the dance ball glass. We are dreamt dreams of children’s sleep with aging hands, shuffling feet, dreaming longer daylights than we’ll know Infilled quakes of earthen joys, and 123 ready or not sorrows bowed, draped in our finest selves upon a erstwhile lover’s frame. Fraying now, the seams are tired seemingly contentedly shrinkingly, to a memoried looking glass view; surrendering now to love abandoned as the self. with affection, Brian

in order to find your true path...but what do they know! I think many of us can empathise with the feelings you have expressed here Anna.....and so well as always. Love Keith PS I think i might have gone for tremors rather than earthquakes, am not sure i see earthquakes as joyful.