In times of parting I am suffused with grief
the moment our terminal separation
A child whose loss would be enormous;
ending the best real love ever known.
Once time remembered perceived most bereft
perchance looking into the azure ceiling saw
two children's balloons white tethered,
seeking heaven together.
. . . discovered later this date:
"Love possesses not nor will it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love."
"Sadness is but a wall between two gardens." --Khalil Gibran
. . . then remembered
"Learn the alchemy that few human beings know, that when you accept what difficulties you have been given, a door opens."
"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." --Rumi
Love is an astonishing experience, in that 'To Have & Have Not' is reverent to the origin of All Love. To die this moment from joy knowing this, i am quartet blest discovering there is no boundary in life and death marked. All definitions from gender to religion, or other governance, will pass away leaving Love, what we sometimes call "God."
. . . another level, this date: I have begun to curate flowers found, no longer by attribution cataloged since there is only The One who speaks through us. . . . in some sense I see us all passing vessels upon a night sea becoming Speaking Trumpets to one another on the way to oblivion; let us be kind to one another in the journey.
"Learn the alchemy that few human beings know, that when you accept what difficulties you have been given, a door opens."
"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." --Rumi
Love is an astonishing experience, in that 'To Have & Have Not' is reverent to the origin of All Love. To die this moment from joy knowing this, i am quartet blest discovering there is no boundary in life and death marked. All definitions from gender to religion, or other governance, will pass away leaving Love, what we sometimes call "God."
. . . another level, this date: I have begun to curate flowers found, no longer by attribution cataloged since there is only The One who speaks through us. . . . in some sense I see us all passing vessels upon a night sea becoming Speaking Trumpets to one another on the way to oblivion; let us be kind to one another in the journey.
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