L'aura del Campo

Becoming air. Lessons of the larkspur.

Becoming air

Live on air
one paycheck lasting two eternities
till Life cries out to Death

who'll wait

unimpressed by nothingness
goes elsewhere where
soul's sweet release is needed most
to help flesh seep to soil
and rivers weep.

Live on air
each breath inhaling futures
no better than the past
when wounds oozed daily
till all was lost.

Yes, Death would add up costs,
deny you still.

Live on air,
become lighter every day
each burden cast away to those that care
about these things

Float and sing
then dance with Death.
Soar, becoming air.

© Kåre Enga [164.92] 07-05-24

IMAGES:

50 feet of larkspur: white, pink, blue indigo, pale lavender; orange daylily; hollyhock; pink-lavender wild relatives of the four-o'clocks; blossoms on the peas; lace finery of the Kentucky bean tree.

MORNING THOUGHTS:

Lessons of the Larkspur: Be rooted in whatever crack you fall in. Grow as others fade in Autumn's light. Sleep and be thankful for whatever blanket of ice and snow may warm you. When winds of Spring arise, be flexible and bend. Come Summer raise your head in pink, white, indigo and blue, oblivious to your end.

To grasp a pen when the thumb is numb leads to barely readable writing. To not grasp the pen leads to no writing at all.

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