Sunrise


Time for me will stop
when my heart does.
At least as I understand things.
We seldom know much
about anything.
especially those things
we’re so sure of.
Two seconds into whatever
comes next, I’ll be asking:
“What’s happening?”

The sun rises
behind the tall, silent firs,
and wonder, would they
be there if I didn’t name them?
What conceit.
Our minds form the word ‘tree’,
and we think we created it.

Yet out there,
the ineffable beauty
of the ever-changing Now,
sweeps along whether
I ride it or not.
“Wisdom tells me I am nothing.
Love tells me I am everything,
and in between, my life flows.” –unk.

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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