My Hands Hold my Heart

First, this may not be news to anyone else, but I am reasonably certain that Mumford and Sons could be the most gorgeous music to ever exist. You basically can't do anything but listen, for real. amazing.
On that same note - pun not intended so much as unavoidable - I'm been doing plenty of writing myself and first, let me note this: if you are a grammar fiend and happen to adore reading mangled manuscripts written in a frenzy, let me know. Still trying to redeem the historical novel, because I really think it has promise if it can recover from my merciless infliction of periods.
That wasn't my point though:
What I really wanted to post was just a little piece of a larger poem I wrote. I can't show you the whole thing because I think I might want to try and get it published, maybe - it's significantly different than things I've written before, and I can't for the life of me come up with a title for it, but here it is in it's minimal glory, and hopefully it shares just a bit of life and love and glory with you.
We need just a bit of those things to carry with us every day.

"I wait for you in my dreams

on the street corners, in the wishing well and

I wait and I dream and I wish of you,

only you, and I wait,

I wait,

I wait only for you because

when we meet we’ll be always, forever,

together, and somewhere in this world we

will find peace and

the kind of love that moves the mountains and

shakes the oceans deep beneath their waves for

the fullness of the glory and beauty and wonder

contained in a tiny mustard seed."

Think on these things. There's glory and beauty and wonder all around us, friends. As long as we have eyes to see.