Books are gentle companions. Usually.
Except for that one time I was just about murdered by books.
That was twenty years ago . . .
***
I didn't know what to do with my life. I had no
...
[+]
White snowflakes glisten, bound in crystal bond
Reflecting sunshine and a brighter light -
A radiant thought whispered from beyond
This cold, hard world of atoms in our sight
The robin sings her sweet, exultant lays
And rustling leaves proclaim the counterpoint.
That Composer in whom sheep may safely graze
Reveals his music in the chorus joint.
In the cars, cathedrals, and cantatas
Wrought by man, that piece of work of breath and dust,
Echoes the pattern of He who taught us
The beauty and the dream for which we lust.
As I sketch with child's hands some grand design
A Father's hand clasps mine and guides the line
Reflecting sunshine and a brighter light -
A radiant thought whispered from beyond
This cold, hard world of atoms in our sight
The robin sings her sweet, exultant lays
And rustling leaves proclaim the counterpoint.
That Composer in whom sheep may safely graze
Reveals his music in the chorus joint.
In the cars, cathedrals, and cantatas
Wrought by man, that piece of work of breath and dust,
Echoes the pattern of He who taught us
The beauty and the dream for which we lust.
As I sketch with child's hands some grand design
A Father's hand clasps mine and guides the line