Eyes Closed and Beautiful

Harp strings and fog horns, bass grooves, flute

flight sun dropping light, tree leaves casting

shadow, life so full you want to cry.

Nothing more than love, than whispers, than trees turning colors

as a last bow to life-giving Light

before Winter settles in, pale grey and quiet. The slumber

of the Soul.  Eyes closed and Beautiful. To know Life, to really

know life

is to weep with Joy and shed countess tears

of Longing.

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About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
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