The letters of our thoughts are the ideas present in our mind before they come to realization . . . Thoughts that are, yet not felt . . . The words of the subconscious . . . of the soul . . .


Sunday, April 26, 2009

Spring Time in the Height of Crowns

Back in Crown Heights.
It's been a while since I've written one of these . . . Stream of thought and poetic angst seem tied to a different time. A part of some other reality so far removed from, as if driven asunder by the force of the Millennia.

Yet a new hope is visible everywhere, and always seems to touch the soul.
I left a brown and grey Brooklyn. Cold and dry . . . only beginning to recover from winter's icy grasp. The seeds, planted then in prayers, have begun to sprout anew . . .

Everything's growing, small white flowers blossom like stars on budding green branches.
People are out, the spring has returned.
Children bounce like young fawns after the winters frost, couples mill about in the evening's warm glow.
Has it really been a year since I mused on passing clouds?
Soon the fireflies will warm the dusk of my Brooklyn garden . . . and what will be
Only He knows.

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e said...

yeah, dude. It's spring. I'm feeling incoherent today. Sorry.

The Real Shliach said...

Sheesh, just because the trees are full of sap doesn't mean you have to be. :)

shira said...

Sappy is good! :)

Sef said...

sappy is not good.
how many more spring time posts will you be making about crown heights?

Mottel said...

Just this one.

Chana Langman said...

new beginnings... ;-)

Chaviva said...

That photo has me expecting some giant to crawl out of the clouds with light rays beaming from its eyes.