D. (dalaruan) wrote,
D.
dalaruan

all the freedom in one’s own possession

Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

T. S. Eliot, East Coker



I set them free
every one of them
bit by bit they sent off
in all directions
is it your choice
or theirs
freedom
is
death
set
free

Tags: loss, love that killing field
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