I am letting my Self pollute my experience of life more than usual, lately.
Puppeteering my relationships so that I see only strings.
Hearing only the pitch of my voice when I sing.
Feeling only the unstirred beat of my heart when I pray.
I want to see people when I interact with them.
I want to listen to the entire choir.
I want another to stir my heart.
Self is a big mean ole bully, wrestling gentle Spirit to the ground, pretending to be unaware that he needs Spirit to be truly real, truly fulfilled...pretending not to know that he is weaker.
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The cranberry red minivan had acquired a shimmy in recent years--a fact that its driver, Abraham, regarded in much the same way he regarded ...
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I am... 1. Learning Italian! Thanks to a generous loan of some audio CDs and workbooks from Vowsh, I have a plan that will get me here all t... -
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys, And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple As false dawn. Outside...
1 comment:
ms.
did you write that beautiful little thing?
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