what we lose, we think we lose forever
but we are wrong about this; think of love -
love is lost, we think it gone,
but it returns, often when least expected,
forgives us our lack of attention, our failure of faith,
our cold indifference, forgives us all this, and more;
returns and says, "I was always there."
love, at our shoulder, whispers: "merely remember me,
don't think I've gone away forever:
I'm still here. with you. my power undimmed.
see. I'm here."
A. McCall Smith, The Lost Art of Gratitude
sabato, febbraio 19, 2011
Iscriviti a:
Commenti sul post (Atom)
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento