quarta-feira, 7 de abril de 2010

"Hope" is the the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
-Emily Dickinson

These verses are in gratitude.
I know of this chilliest land, I know of the strangest sea, in Extremity.
The thing with feathers was always there even when I couldn't hear its wordless tune, when I gave up on it. Some other day I'll delve into deeper waters, for now I just say thank you, ancora, ancora, ancora.
So much rested upon today and I danced it through like a miracle. I cry of joy and ask god, please, don't let me stop -at all.

Nenhum comentário:

Postar um comentário