Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
![]() ![]() ![]() L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ ![]() L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I L ![]() ![]() On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara ![]() passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: ![]() These pictures rotate. Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Happiness: No worries, no obsessing about the could'ves, would'ves, should'ves, letting go of balloons to pursue their dreams, walking through the dappled days of reality, feet to the ground, embracing small miracles along the way. 34w [8] Sadness: Once again, the letting go, the grieving, your hand slipping out of mine, your heart beating out of time, stopped forever. Greatest sadness? No. Stepping on an ant. Not watering a plant. Not asking you to marry me. 38w [9] I deserve: No more, no less. I've been cursed and blessed. Didn't deserve either. Grace and mercy, the kindness of strangers, the virtues that elude me, vanity staring back at me from the mirror whispering: let go. 35w [10] Our Love: Your leg traps me, your arms hug, your body keeps me warm. In love? In lust? Or just two lost pieces of the puzzle hooking up. Do I dare let go? Outside of time, each moment matters in this place. 40w [11] Spring: Heat and smoke give way to wind and rain. Snow melts under an unrelenting sun. What remains in Isan, or Montana, if not the mud that covers us, ushers in the change of seasons, urging us to let go. 37w [12] |