You weave a spell,
I wear it on my back,
and though the chilly stars
go bone naked
we are clothed.
The Garden Of Love
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.
As for the silences, how can silence be described in words? Only poetry can do that.
Me, messing around with ink then editing it alittle thoughts?
my painting just black ink