As my son often says, it's all good. It's all holy.
Walking on the edge, Between awareness and sleep. Sometimes... I’m in the moment, I feel my body,
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
What inspires me... Hummingbirds buzzing as they land, on nearby flowers. Their amazing wings
The flesh withers as we age But our inner spirit Remains the same. And when the body dies The spirit breaks free
On the brink of leaving, To go beyond These borders And say good-bye, To all you know,
The chimes outside the pottery studio ring like a temple bell, calling the faithful to honor,
Time is going by fast, Trying not to live in the past, To keep priorities straight And not falter at the gate. To join the universal goal
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,
Geese are honking As they fly Across an orange colored Sky. My spirit soars
To open and risk hurt... Or stay closed but Never really live. Pain can reveal... A connection to
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
In the blink of an eye It’s a different scene On the big movie screen So easy to get absorbed In the story line of time.
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
Pale blue moon Of August, Peeking behind The clouds, Luminous,