I feel so ephemeral as if the slightest disruption will cause me to vanish altogether. I do not think that I am so very fragile, yet there is something in me that is so unlike this world that it struggles to exist here. Or perhaps it doesn't struggle to be here at all, and that is the difficultly. Perhaps it is more a matter of will, that I am unwilling to eat the food here, and so commit myself to the shadowlands. Perhaps I am not made out of clay like the rest, if I were, I think I would live on the earth more readily, and less in the air.
posted by angela at 10:47 PM
2 Comments:
So many better ways to understand old thoughts, "Be in the world but not of the world" Perhaps they understood it then.
When the wonder is lost its just a wander
Your Uncle Mike has a book of Poems by your great grandmother Rose,
"Dewdrops from the Ozarks", look there if your wonder has wended away
Perhaps being so close to the city you feel its dying and think it your own
Back to Nature is always a good thing.
"Come heart where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there the mystical brotherhood Of sun and moon and hollow and wood And river and stream work out their will"
You are probably right.
I have that Dewdrops from the Ozarks book in a box right here.
Post a Comment
<< Home