It's only a canvas sky, hanging over a muslin tree.
But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me.
The day is over...it's time to dance.
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Since September 2008
i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april
my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness
around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains
i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing
winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)
-e.e. cummings
About Me
- Alison
- I'm a full time student and single mother. I literally live day to day and try to enjoy every moment.
Visitors
I'm not deep
I'm not an intellectual
I'm not an artist
I'm not a critic
I'm not a poet
I just have internet access
I'm not an intellectual
I'm not an artist
I'm not a critic
I'm not a poet
I just have internet access
Your Daily Dose of Awesome!
My Past Writing Projects
Witticisms
i am a little church
i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april
my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness
around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains
i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing
winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)
-e.e. cummings
Blog Archive
- September 2011 (1)
- April 2011 (2)
- March 2011 (7)
- February 2011 (6)
- January 2011 (4)
- September 2010 (1)
- August 2010 (1)
- July 2010 (3)
- May 2010 (1)
- April 2010 (6)
- March 2010 (7)
- February 2010 (18)
- January 2010 (5)
- December 2009 (22)
- November 2009 (7)
- June 2009 (2)
- May 2009 (2)
- April 2009 (7)
- March 2009 (2)
- December 2008 (6)
- November 2008 (7)
- October 2008 (6)
- September 2008 (8)
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