Days

The days aren’t discarded or collected,
they are bees that burned with sweetness or maddened the sting:
the struggle continues, the journeys go and come between honey and pain.
No, the net of years doesn’t unweave: there is no net.
Pablo Neruda

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s