a memoir of etchings and wanderings
Now he left a in hole in my heart A hole in a promise A hole on the side of my bed A hole that will never fill itself A sad, deep black hole A hole that I cannot mend Now we’ve got holes in our hearts, yeah we’ve got holes in our lives Where we’ve got holes, we’ve got holes but we carry on…
What though the radiance which was once so brightBe now for ever taken from my sight,Though nothing can bring back the hourOf splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;We will grieve not, rather findStrength in what remains behind; — I came across this verse by Wordsworth yesterday. He talks about the overcoming. The absolute necessity to stand up once you have fallen, time and again. The deriving strength … Continue reading “Glory in the Flower” →