In my misconceived notion of what boxes to tick,And when to consider myself fulfilled,I slipped into the farce that alone is undesirable;Alone just means more time for me.
All the parts of me that bruised have healed,When you trace the scars, they form a constellation;I've nicknamed it Sirius,In hopes it shines as bright.
I have a funny way of showing it,My lips turn down when they should be up;Rather than nourish, I starveBecause thinner limbs with bulging lips are the fad.I never let my tears touch the ground but muffle them,Stifling my body's right to raze.It's never me I reach for, it's always someone else or something new,Something that shines but dims in my grasp.Tell me I'm wrong, that all that neglect was because I was coming home to me;The only time I looked at me was when I caught me unawares from the depths of parked car windows.Who will blame me for thinking I didn't love me enough.
If I ever write about you, what will I say?That you were the one?The one I should never have met,Because everyone after has to battle with the after taste of our love.What will I say?I'm sorry I let you hurt me;I'm sorry that every time they say they love me,I hear your voice,See your faceAnd it clouds me,It makes me disbelieve.I'm sorry I thought you were the one so I can't think they are too.
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --Gravitates within --Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it --Bit it stir -- alone --Each -- its difficult IdealMust achieve -- Itself --Through the solitary prowessOf a Silent Life --Effort -- is the sole condition --Patience of Itself --Patience of opposing forces --And intact Belief --Looking on -- is the DepartmentOf its Audience --But Transaction -- is assisted
The daughters of Mne Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air.To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.O life of this our spring! why fades the lotus of the water?Why fade these children of the spring? born but to smile & fall.Ah! Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,Like a reflection in a glass: like shadows in the waterLike dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.Like the doves voice, like transient day, like music in the air:Ah! gentle may I lay me down and gentle rest my head.