My previous post was a reflection on a birth day – Branwell Brontë’s.
So is this one – mine. From one year to the next, I change and remain the same … and so I repost this poem, these thoughts, anew.
I was told I must
in some kind of obvious way,
because I prefer to hide in the wonder
of my life,
to stay quiet and even rather
To drink the nectar
instead of more company
than is good for me,
like too much wine
that would make me unrecognizable
My thirst is for
the clarity of my thoughts,
the true rhythm of my heart,
and the wakefulness of my soul.
Although, in a way, I do seek
overindulging in the softness
of my cats and their doggedness, too –
the same to be said about nature
as it intoxicates my life with meaning
and escape from meaning,
and the passions that make me teeter
on the edge of becoming unrecognizable
to everyone but myself.
“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world having overcome the world, live unsoiled by the world”
On my birthday I make a toast of
Peace and Love
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