Blue expandingcrisp whiteof tiny sails –horizon The lull is gentlelucidity swellingserenity present How safe it isto imagine limitlessnesswhen I am groundedbreast to railinganchored ashore. (Image my own)
Is it selfishthis chosen solitude?How I treasure silence,stillness baiting my muse And is it my calmthat attracts chaos?The sorrow of otherslanding on my doorstep What if I rejected pleas,locked out the troubles?How long can I sustainpeace until need answers? (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Does illness have a voice,and if so; is it melancholy,or dark and dank, divulgingdeepest despair, or revealinga vileness of nature? Discord creeps along my veins,disrupts muscles, systems failingunder the oppression –“Stay strong,” friends counsel,cannot hear the gathering storm,feel the heaviness cloaking me. I am not myself, but then;who am I? Is disease a mutationof the […]
So ture!
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Thank you!
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Absolutely, memories too.
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Yes! Thanks
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🙂
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loved this “what among us is not still life, until mind and emotion meet us..”
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Thanks Heather
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My pleasure.
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Wishing I could capture the still life of this day…I’d burn it, blow the ash faraway. Hah, a poetic comment…
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ha ha …how about the whole month.
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Well things were going really fine till the past couple days–Whammy! Are you feeling better, re the infection?
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A little bit. Back to the doctor tomorrow to see if there is real progress.
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I’ll be thinking of you–and keeping the prayers aflame ❤
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Appreciate it!
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No problem, it’s an honor to be of use 🙂 Did you read Cider House Rules? The term/notion “being of use” opened the story, and I really felt it!
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Yes! To be of use is important.
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🙂 🙂
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