Thomas Wolfe - Craig Cornish's Blog

Sometimes I read things and they hit to the heart and I celebrate what they mean in simple terms that each of us can relate to.  Much too often we toss asunder dreams that we should thoughtfully embrace. After Thomas Wolf’s death, these wonderful musings were related to us all.

 

Some things never change,
lean down your ear upon the earth and listen to
the voice of forest water in the night,
a woman’s laughter in the dark,
the clean hard rattle of raked gravel,
the cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows,
the delicate web of children’s voices in bright air,
the glitter of sunlight on roughened water,
the glory of the stars – the innocence of morning,
the smell of the sea in harbors,
the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs,
the leaf, the blade, the flower ,
the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again,
the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark,
the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth,
the seasons that lapse and change – then come again,
the pavement trembling like a pulse under
the buildings trembling like a cry –
the waste of time under the hoof of
the beast above the broken bones of cities
there will be something growing like a flower,
something bursting from the earth again –
forever deathless, faithful, coming to life again
…..like April