In a permanent poetic state
the ultimate hand of the moment
spreads poetry in time...
Self is important; too much "self" is as SELFISH as cancer
Everywhere, self-help gurus and coaches help us do better
Lest we give up especially when young, pummeled by "disgrace" -
Freedom is desirable through education - holistic of course
I am not responsible enough to be the most important "self" around
So much misery is caused by leaders and thinkers who hate limits
Holy Spirit is here to help. But we coexist with many spirits.
Spring
I was listening to Chopin’s “Spring.”
It was coming back, the spring I saw and felt
when I lived inland in my old cottage.
The flowers of blossoming almond trees,
the black soil and the greening of trees leaves,
the flowers on the roadside and
the intense aroma of nature.
Living in an apartment high up seasons come and go
I thought I had forgotten.
But Chopin had brought back memories.
Before I die, I would like to hear his music
again, it gives me harmony in my mind.
the edge of the universe, the milky way, the sun, the planet, the continent, the country, the city, the apartment building, the old concierge friendly face, the creaky elevator, nobody's home, the elevator, the friendly face, the building, the city, the country, the continent and so on.
going far away,
make sure you did not forget
documents and keys
And so it goes,
I find myself,
alone, alone,
on a dusty shelf.
I am filled with words,
and pages unturned,
stories untold,
and no lessons learned.
My will is weak,
my mind is lost,
my insides black,
I pay the cost.
This life I've led,
has crossed the line,
I've sinned and bled,
ignored the signs.
And so I know,
I will not rise,
my never ending restlessness,
my welcoming demise.
From the bottom,
I'm looking up,
there is no light,
I gave it up.
Forever young,
my soul is old,
my body ash,
my story told.
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