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Quote by Lawrence Nault

“We forget that stars are not ornaments in the sky, but fires still burning.”

Quote by Lawrence Nault

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“I Am the City The spaces between streets, The lights that bloom on corners, The lines that hold us together. I may be a name, I may be a crossroad, I may be a saint. I am a city. I am a name. I am.”

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Book:The Willow Song

Source: The Willow Song

“White blossoms on cold sheets; Roses outside the garden's wall. Falling feels easier than growing Once you've reached each peak.”

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“What speaks slowly becomes bold. What begins as a letter becomes a book. Whoever crosses a line is a poet. Whoever is a poet becomes a revolt.”

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Book:The Willow Song

Source: The Willow Song

“Paris The Seine dresses in light black, Mimicking the dark grey of the sky, And so, I drown my ink into it. Each poem becomes art, Reflecting and dancing Around my hands with care. The notes the river shares Become a painting that inspires All the great artists housed in its museums. Still, I vow and pray by its sight — Yet I dare not claim to be an artist As great as the one in sight. In Paris.”

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Book:The Willow Song

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“Parisian Endings Endings share a bond between right and wrong, Upon every poet who dares to cross a line. The Parisian sky glows light with blue and orange, Each hill a line of fortune, unique to every soul. Words cross the heart I call cœur, And dawn in the same eternal hues behind her. By noon, I become the city itself, Only to return as her passenger, By walking far enough to lose her.”

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Book:The Willow Song

Source: The Willow Song

“A Line Across the Seine Whatever I made of you Surrenders to beauty. For I am a simple line That crosses the Seine, Remembering each wave Upon the stones of light. However often the light shines Towards the blue of morning skies, I’ll be here. I’ll write.”

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Book:The Willow Song

Source: The Willow Song

“The Weight of Falling Leaves Winter swept onto my doorstep quite easily, Like it overtook every part of my heart, The moment you left my autumn to fall. So I kept things as you left them – frozen, Showing no sign of any emotion or feeling, Like the leaves that wither and die in the ice. Never fulfilling the purpose for which they fell, Yet crumbling under shoes heavier than the burden The tree gave them by letting them go. They long to be carried away by the wind or the elements, Not trapped forever in this frozen expanse of white, Beneath starry skies that gaze upon each December night. I can no longer bear to look upon them, So I set them free with a kiss to keep; Filled with the fire of your lips, finally redeemed – See how they gleam with beauty, long before spring.”

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“Poem with Adjustments And I write out of worry, I write out of fear, I write for writing's sake, And I drown in between these motives. I become a poet, I become a lover, I become a human, And still, I seek to become a writer. I become still in the seeking.”

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“My Lines My lines cross tragedy, Hope, and love; A mere poetry of life Keeps anyone alive. I may wander along, Yet I’ll be a part of it— Life—I seek.”

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“All The Ink I Wasted All the ink I wasted Climbing up ivory pages and cursive titles Of whoever asked to buy and sell - Words and souls and hope and pain. All the nights I spent Crying out to the world what I thought Or blaming myself for not hearing back - Worlds are crashing inside myself. All the fights I fought Calming my strife to succeed and feel Overwhelming hopes and dreams in spare - Wondering if I write my fate or dare to seal. All the wasted words Counting each number up I tried to spell Only to be reminded of despair once again - Worth is nothing nowadays with a price to sell.”

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Book:The Willow Song

Source: The Willow Song