We don’t remember conversations in full tableau. Instead, glistening moments, a bluesy vignette, a mere phrase filled with undisclosed meaning. They shine like supernovae across our lifespan, persistently prodding us to mine their significance with each new contemplation. Gifts which keep on giving.
One of the earliest things I’ve ever written — somehow it still clings…
_______RS
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Spinning back down the years; almost as if it were somebody else…
cross the road gladiolas grew
a sizable patch
every imagined color
even peach
Read On…
Friendships materializing late in life have a special and different color to them. They will not be understood in this lifetime, but will spew unpredictable fruits and blossoms in times to come.
The 3rd in a series venturing beyond the veil of the obvious. Read this for more orientation info about the series. I almost feel a need to apologize since the length of this piece is over 5000 words, but only almost. Within this entire series (A-i-t-s) I try consciously to build as vivid a context as possible, according to my memory, within which the events in question unfurl. If I lose some people enroute, that is something I can live with. It is important to me to treat these things comprehensively and lovingly.
“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another.” – Thomas Merton
when i was little, even tiny
then my loving was my looking
and when i knew something new
that was something like love too
but with time I saw that “I” saw
that I was he who sees his seeing
so now my love’s become hard work
that I am grateful for its being
_______RS
[ Image : I somehow have misplaced which corner of the web where I located this wonderful watercolor… if you recognize it, please help me with it’s attribution, and I’ll ‘like’ you in perpetuity. ]
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||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 