3/12/24
Mr. R. would talk about his deceased brother, he dreamed about him frequently; also of an eagle
Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and
Sometimes wonder about a star, way afar. How life might be in outer space,
The misty, night rain, Soaking bare trees, Bringing nourishment. I stand at the window, A steady beat echoes
On a walk, many Brown-Eye Susan line the border, before the woods. Rain clouds move closer as if to give a hug, while
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
Pretend there is no tomorrow becau… there might not be. Live like there is only this momen… that is the truth. Nothing is solid but whispery,
White heron skidding the blue, grey water, of the bay. How free and easy you make it look,
Time passing by now In a blink of the eye, In the clap of a hand, In the chirp of a bird, In a flash of light
Oh billionaires! How you have lost your soul, lost the goal and kneel down
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that
There is my shadow, A dark outline of this body And yet, it also holds, The hidden imperfections Of my existence.
One year since I traveled to paradise. One year since I laughed and danced with friends. One year since I watched
Beneath the bustling, hustling mind, deep inside, there is an oasis of calm.