Not Love Perhaps
This is not Love, perhaps,
Love that lays down its life,
that many waters cannot quench,
nor the floods drown,
But something written in lighter ink,
said in a lower tone, something, perhaps, especially our own.
A need, at times, to be together and talk,
And then the finding we can walk
More firmly through dark narrow places,
And meet more easily nightmare faces;
A need to reach out, sometimes, hand to hand,
And then find Earth less like an alien land;
A need for alliance to defeat
The whisperers at the corner of the street.
A need for inns on roads, islands in seas,
Halts for discoveries to be sha
The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail's fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.
-Thom Gunn :sherlock:
Had to re-write my personal statement today for a course application. In HAND-WRITING. Queer times. It's silly, but I like how it sounds. Me me me me me. :#1:
This course has enabled me to concentrate on developing my knowledge and skills in numerous mediums and has allowed me to discover my strengths and weaknesses during project work and experimentation. I've developed an extensive interest in sculpture, ceramics, traditional darkroom photography, painting and drawing. I have taken part in enrichment classes provided by NCN to improve my skills with these and have also taken a keen interest in using them outside of college project work.