Along the smooth path powdered with dust, Beneath the bluish shadows of the evergreen. Where is the thing that I lost? Toppled crags and boulders grow in clusters, guard the way. Clamber over, run away, Each tread sprays yellow moss. How many ants have marched this day? Spears of light pierce the woods The stones…
Tag: Pictures
Festina Lente: Words in Gold
All throughout history, humans have tripped over their own feet, left food out to spoil, and made general muddles of things. In order to bring some order out of this incompetent chaos, adages were coined, short, memorable sayings to pass on to the next generation that they might avoid repeating the errors of their forefathers. In 1500, a…