Her absolute joy in the feast of life brings the reader back from the pensiveness and the dark presence that is the basis for many of the verses.
Why has this grail been held from Me, in its fullness; for in my beggar soul, I weep, into The grail of part Awareness, less fulfillment, with an agony As words indescribable, that my geese My box, my vase, my bell-these Have no soul but appropriate Silence.
Elizabeth, February 7, 2008
Related Subjects
Poetry