To Be Human

“If you start living for the smallest reasons,
that’s when you know you’re really living.

The smell of rain after a thunderstorm,
the shades of pavements when it’s autumn,
the mediocre midnights and the color of the sunsets,
the warmth of oven when baking Christmas cookies,
the thickness of paper when flipping through magazine pages,
the smell of new books and new clothes and new things.

When you start looking at things,
really really looking,
you’ll start living.

Because then you’ll understand how it is to really be a human…
in this world full of people.”

May we recognize the treasure within the little things.
Wishing you a beautiful day.
💙

 

A Jewel Within

A pearl is a beautiful thing
that is produced by an injured life.

It is the tear that results
from the injury of the oyster.

The treasure of our being in this world
is also produced by an injured life.

If we had not been wounded,
if we had not been injured,
…then we will not produce the pearl.

-Stephan Hoeller

May this echo within our being through the uncertain days.
Wishing everyone a safe and tranquil week.

 

Neighbor.

bolivia-cow.jpg
• Monteagudo, Bolivia •

Puppydoc, in her usual fashion, seems to befriend animals wherever she goes. This particular companion was one who lived adjacent to the hospital…and whom Puppydoc would visit whenever she just needed some time alone.

☺️

Ophelia.

Chant of thunder, orchestra of wind,
a breath of heart’s unrest.
Lightening flash in half moon’s glow
unearths laments repressed.
Raindropped streams upon her face
masking moistened eyes,
lead her gently by zephyr’s call
into awaiting skies.

Rain.

Streams of raven clouds bend low
through a slice of crescent glow,
into guarded boughs below,
I run to your embrace.

Thickened dewdrops wet my skin
weigh upon breath’s waiting grin,
mesmerize my soul within,
I linger ‘neath your wings.

A song forlorn the sky reveals
a muted rhythmic secret sealed,
Heaven’s lament, abandoned zeal,
I kiss away your tears.

An Evening Stroll.

Crescent beauty shaped by night
painting serenity that mystifies.
Eclipsed over meandering tears,
we roam amongst the trees-
a tranquil thought,
a troubled mind freed.
Tomorrow’s song, its rising morn-
 a promise to dawn’s wider seas.

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