Redan medlem?
Logga in
Apokalysm
33 år
Practice makes perfect, but no one's perfect, so why practice?
Författarsida
ÖVERSIKT |
ARKIV |
LÄS GÄRNA
MINA TEXTER, Arkiv 40 Texter
« Första 1 2 3 Sista » Det finns 3 sidor, du står på sidan 1 |
OM MIG
I am! The ages on the ages roll: And what I am, I was, and I shall be: by slow growth filling higher Destiny, And Widening, ever, to the widening Goal. I am the Stone that slept; down deep in me That old, old sleep has left its centurine trace; I am the plant that dreamed; and lo! still see That dream-life dwelling on the Human Face. I slept, I dreamed, I wakened: I am Man! The hut grows Palaces; the depths breed light; Still on! Forms pass; but Form yields kinglier Might! The singer, dying where his song began, In Me yet lives; and yet again shall he Unseal the lips of greater songs To Be; For mine the thousand tongues of Immortality. - Voltairine de Cleyre Blev medlem juni 2007 Har skrivit 32 kommentarer. Har fått 204 applåder. |