girl-aflame's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oath Oh, mystery, I will make my way to the inner folds of your labyrinth if it is the last thing that I do. You are a calling instrument through the morning mist that rolls across my heart; you are the first rays of sunlight to fall upon fresh dew; you are a faint breath of spring mingled between winter's pricking fingers that bursts forth green and hopeful inside your lungs. You will wake me to this world and I will shape you for it, as unyielding as you are delicate, as confident as you are trembling, as certain as you are full of wonder, a sapling with a skin of oak and branches that sweep the stars, with roots firm and deep in truth. 2:34 a.m. - Sunday, Jul. 20, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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