Tuesday, November 29, 2005
My Tree
Inspired by Ben Fold's Five 'The Luckiest'.
I sat before the piano and I could
not play,
for my fingers seemed
too hesitant.
I tried to sing, and my voice
I began to weep, knowing no
voice nor song played would
ever amount to the strength
of my heartbeat
for you.
I sat beneath a great oak tree.
I watched its boughs tremble
at the greatness of life.
Its trunk was wide and dark
and rough with years of wisdom.
As I looked through the space
in between each branch,
I saw your face.
I've made so many mistakes.
I've listened to the wrong voices and followed
the wrong paths.
I've dwindled in dark places.
I've dreamed nightmares.
Yet, still.
I come to you, blemished.
Wrinkled. Slightly used.
And you welcome me with
the largest embrace, with the
grace of the grandest oak tree.
And you let me sleep amongst
your roots, curled, safe,
I love you more than any
song. I love you more
than any idyllic dream.
I love you so much
I weep.
You tell me God
has so much to do He
cannot concern Himself with details.
What other testament need I
to prove you wrong?
Your limitless love is all
the proof I need--
God forgives me all those iniquites.
And here you are.
And here I am-
wrinkled, blemished, slightly used
and I know I am indeed the luckiest.
-For Michael
Written by FRITZ
| Link | 8 wise cracks! |

Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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