I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
SCHUYLERIn a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
More Schuyler Quotes
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I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
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We’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.
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I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
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I’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
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This does not have to be a hard life to love. There is not enough time to let it stray too far from my hands.
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In a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
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I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
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I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
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I’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.
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I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
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How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
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I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.
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The world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
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I’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.
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Yes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
SCHUYLER