Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Hazy Tuesdays

How strange that one word or a small act, the nervous flicker of eyelashes or twitch of a mouth can stop the world, and suddenly put one in a poetic frame. How I would love to be out there today, and ponder a few things. Spend time in the shade of a pine or birch and soak up the pure smell of summer and the goodness of the raw earth. Hear the buzzard on his flight across the forest and watch butterflies twiddling from one dew drop to the next.

How I would love to be there...


















Life

All things alive have a manner of strife,

Whether it is a passion for being alive...

Dancing through obstacles or dreams,

Believing in abundance of all things good,

Knowing we are never quite alone,

and much more than the total sum of all...


There are precoius gifts and fields of roses,

- places where one can watch wide eyed limitless skies

- Catch wisdom and Grace

- Playing and free-falling in a soft breeze

- Yes, and be vibrantly alive and pure of spirit

- And sometimes mischievously pull the leavers

Until the whole world is lit with blossoming mirth...


Why and what makes fear part of life,

And have us struggle against endless possibilities?

Slowly and wearily we look up, into a reflection

Of limitations and we forget the good...

But for gazing upon our lives as worthless,

With impending traps for failure lurking around...

Which scares us and make us believe,

It's all but for the tick of a vein and catch of a breathe...


Take courage, and gain strength from knowing

Of a life not grasping fruitlessly to lower skies,

neither berating nor beating up ourselves,

To a bruised pulp of what once was beautiful,

And drop the cloak of battle and rage,

let it fall like the old, autumns leafs...

No more sorrow at failure, crumbling fortresses,

In the knowledge that we are more than this...


Even when all are done, waltz to the tune of life,

In the knowledge that more or less doesn’t matter,

Whether there is something or nothing...

- We will always get up from the dirt and dust,

And fall all over again in love...

With this Life

1 comment:

Brother Tobias said...

So true - and beautifully put. It's why we are close to the ground; not so far to fall, and not so difficult to get to our feet again. Or something (!)