Paper Follies ~ A Bit of Whimsy

to find yourself

Chance
may favor obscure brainy aptitudes in you and a love of the past so blind you would venture, always securing permission, into the back library stacks, without food or water because you have a mission: to find yourself, in the regulated light, holding a volume in your hands as you yourself might like to be held. Mostly your life will be voices and images. Information. You may go a long way alone, and travel much to open a book to renew your touch. {Molly Peacock}

 

Morning Poem

 

 

Every morning

the world

is created. 

Under the orange 

sticks of the sun

the heaped

ashes of the night

turn into leaves again 

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---

and the ponds appear

like black cloth

on which are painted islands 

 

of summer lilies. 

If it is your nature

to be happy

you will swim away along the soft trails 

for hours, your imagination

alighting everywhere. 

And if your spirit

carries within it 

the thorn

that is heavier than lead ---

if it's all you can do

to keep on trudging --- 

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted --- 

 

each pond with its blazing lilies

is a prayer heard and answered

lavishly, 

every morning, 

whether or not

you have ever dared to be happy, 

whether or not

you have ever dared to pray. 

~Mary Oliver

all the rest depend on us

At the entrance, my bare feet on the dirt floor, 

Here, gusts of heat; at my back, white clouds. 

I stare and stare. 

It seems I was called for this: 

To glorify things just because they are. 

{Czeslaw Milosz} 

 

hello there...

{i know not where the time goes. it ebbs and flows with the seasons, but always manages to elude my hands stretching out to capture it. the only place it is captured is in my heart, living as a memory in the corners of my mind.}

{therefore, i remind myself to treasure it in the moment it is here. be in the moment, be in the moment. be in the moment and you will be at peace with the forward march of time and its ever-quickening pace.}