Saturday, 24 September 2011

after the workshop

no way back now
no way back to the
safe caverns of cynicism and

burn that path

but see the shape of the
blackened twigs as they
snake back across the land

that shape
is my first mark
I pick up a piece of
burnt wood
and start to dance, and
draw, and sing 
my way 
across the universe


And a poem by David Whyte 

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