The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringletsfrom their sleep,
And I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed in the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And the spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
- ROBERT BROWNING
Can you run fast enough, far enough
To escape your own mind,
Your own guilt,
Your own fears,
Your own tears
As they trace a pathway down your face,
Showing everyone where you have been?
- RAVEN OAK