what we do not know
does not stop
the flowers growing
rather it is our very limitation
which gift the need for growth
take the time
sit in a quiet space
write a few words
of love
offer up your care
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
what we do not know
does not stop
the flowers growing
rather it is our very limitation
which gift the need for growth
take the time
sit in a quiet space
write a few words
of love
offer up your care
gulls call out
last night’s sound
of an helicopter circling
has been silenced
as we slept
whatever was to be found
is gathered in
whatever was to be discovered
is brought into the fold
as we walk
endless opportunities
are abroad
in the thinking
as the now itself is thinking
in spheres of its own consciousness
away from the valley
out into the intellectual
cosmopolitan world
a transformation
with sense equally as well as
without sense
bending and shaving
in deep and deeper
such is communion
where the words
enter and are received
by mind and body and soul
unsettled peace
stretching boundaries
breaking established arrangements
shifting the blue sky sideways
unfettered release
walking on water
eroding previous moments
corroding the polished diamonds
time is the time
for the time of forgiveness
light is the light
for the here and the now
where next
how to take
the next step
on the pathway
of enrichment
fractured
by self-forgiveness
in obscure worlds
more rearrangement
with guidance
from within
and without
secluded
in the folds
of the pasture
ahead of you
as around of you
what you see
is where
the thought begins
yet what you write
is almost at the end