A cold, cold day in January
And the bus long in coming -
The sky a white chill -
Blue at a distance the hills.
But the light looking south
On the morning road is different -
Beautiful - like a ray of the infinite
Touching far down on the earth.
If I took the path at the turning,
There where its early glow
Illumines the street sign,
Somehow I know
Past and present would merge
And I would live in the light
Of a boundless happiness forever.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
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