Trust not in oppression, and become not vain in robbery: if riches increase, set not your heart upon them.
Knowledge is fickle bending and swaying through mouths foisted upon a dark horse swiftly the war mounts against innocent hearts
fervently pray for peace to return that men of courage break this bondage may we rest our eyes on beauty and smoke the sky with incense
Since January 2019 I feel a call to be a peacemaker. While i do not entirely understand the path i walk, i do focus on ways to be productive in pursuing peace among men. Differences aside, i do hope we all agree that riches are fleeting. What is everlasting is the spirit of love.
Staying out of the movers way!
Looking toward the day
I can rest my mind and rhyme -Think!
Set up my writing desk
find a place to paint -Dream!
until then, i pledge
to stay out of the movers way.
The biggest day of my life, since i moved to Indiana, has arrived. From this day forward, i move without knowing the future. Security is in the past. Adventure awaits those who walk with eyes wide open.
Trying not to cry! Feeling the exhilarating new of Boston on my brow! My heart is racing, wondering what lies ahead.
And excited to have lots of time to read back posts. See you at your blog soon!
Do we owe apologies when life happens? My heart ♥️ is discombobulated at the moment. I miss you dear readers and i made a brief appearance this morning after a welcome disappearance from the world. A friend and i made away to the wooded hills of Brown County, in my expedient retreat from the hustle and bustle of moving. And i stopped to breath. And a few words made it to the surface, popped and left stains on paper. I shared them with you from the encouragement of another. Thank you for reading.
death of an era
I have not been able to read any of your blogs and i want to. I desperately feel i owe you that curtesy and i cannot fulfill that endeavor. I want to be able to think, write and paint. But i cannot. I want to reach out, touch and exchange smiles. But i cannot. I want to scream, be heard and cry. But i cannot.
Life happens. But i am not.
I remain enclosed in self-protection from the chaos of realtor showings, movers approaching with boxes, tape and sharpies. I am spinning and not on tip-toe.
At the moment i remain confused. I do not profess to understand the complexities i am passing through. Your worlds are miles away and cannot be reached. My world is slipping from my hands.
my promise garden
These are moments to cherish. The labor of my hands have shown to say hello, one more time. And goodbye forever.
I wrote a poem to a friend this past weekend. (See below.) I sent it off to him. He did not respond. Silence weighs heavy on my head. I do not understand his absence after sharing his desire to reciprocate. Another of his small deaths looming?
found the feathers
who wastes their life?
bundled in piles
faded ink scribbles
unable to decipher his path forward
entangles with her promises.