The Way It Was, Is


dreamin'
The way I was, resting on a long road, laughingly  and thankfully ignorant of the future.

It happens. The dry spells drift in around my ankles like sand, and before I know it, I can’t move.

Oh, well. These times happen, and we try to figure out what to do. It will pass, and then something new will either delight or dismay, sometimes simultaneously. On this day, a day of sad remembrance, it is a time to pause, and think of the People.

The summer was eventful, meaningful, powerful and full of the closing of some doors and the exciting, tentative opening of others.  And over it all hovers the terrible news of murder and suffering and liars loose on the land, of children dying for no reason, of the sins of the powerful, the stupidity of the masses.

In the meantime, I read your posts and silently urge you on. Don’t worry about me. I’m resting, that’s all. Getting down to basics. It happens. It will pass. I look out on the rooflines of old mansions from my high perch. The Fall sunshine kisses the leaves that still grace the trees and suggests things in dappled shadows on the wall. It is a good place to be, a perfect place to rise in order to sink down into the meat of things.

And in the meantime, I read, keeping company with others to show me the way to kick my feet free and to step out onto the long road again….

3 Replies to “The Way It Was, Is”

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Errant Satiety

seeking sublime surrender

HemmingPlay

“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer

yaskhan

Verba volant, scripta manent !

Upashna

In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.

The Wild Heart of Life

Creative Nonfiction & Poetry

- MIKE STEEDEN -

THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE

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