Is it then that we forget the way of life and how we are?
Monday, September 1, 2008
Fall.
There needs to be a season in which every fallen thing rises. Every man, every trampled flower, every forgotten toy, and every shred of shattered dignity rises again, with soft wings. Just feel what it's like to be alive again. Just for one season.
1 comment:
I really like this. It's very poetic.
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