Thursday, May 18, 2017
new moon next week thursday here- the tide still going out
tidal
with the waning of
the moon and the tide
still going out,
i'm coming in
until, at the point
of turning and
with the new moon
i will reach out
with a swell, my blood
rising and rushing,
gravel and stones
moving underneath
through the softness
of seaweed, under
the weight of waters
flooding the land
i know, i know, i wish
to stay at this moment
when all is waiting
aware of power
in the time of
collecting strength,
resilient waiting
for the one wave
to build up, to change
all direction,
to come, to go,
to take me: i am.
with the waning of
the moon and the tide
still going out,
i'm coming in
until, at the point
of turning and
with the new moon
i will reach out
with a swell, my blood
rising and rushing,
gravel and stones
moving underneath
through the softness
of seaweed, under
the weight of waters
flooding the land
i know, i know, i wish
to stay at this moment
when all is waiting
aware of power
in the time of
collecting strength,
resilient waiting
for the one wave
to build up, to change
all direction,
to come, to go,
to take me: i am.
note to me: terminology
just to use another terminology and language does not make us better or wiser or happier nor so much different than all other humans. just different: it is less a sign of intelligence than of luxury.
e.g. esoteric language often has been kept obscure by an upper class on purpose: obscurity as means to domination. it can also be a means for evading to face reality and constrictions and self in a simple and humble way.
one smile can say more than thousand words. one kind touch, one loving embrace will wipe away all terminology,
one tear all concepts, one laugh can be
true wisdom.
so, i stop right here.
Jethro Tull ,Sleeping With The Dog
:-)..........
Her love is like a candle: you light it up at night.
Her heart is like a pack of cards: one chance to guess it right.
Sometimes I do.
She's got a tongue like a viper, but she can whisper like a dove.
Soft touch like brushed velvet: till she hits you from above.
And sometimes she does.
She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log.
Just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.
And it goes: sleeping with the dog.
Her heart is like a pack of cards: one chance to guess it right.
Sometimes I do.
She's got a tongue like a viper, but she can whisper like a dove.
Soft touch like brushed velvet: till she hits you from above.
And sometimes she does.
She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log.
Just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.
And it goes: sleeping with the dog.
I have to guess at the mysteries of her unfathomable soul.
Guess when the time seems right
to make a broken spirit whole
and that time is due. C'mon.
Guess when the time seems right
to make a broken spirit whole
and that time is due. C'mon.
She leaves me breathing: down like a fallen log
and just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.
And it goes: sleeping with the dog.
and just when I feel like dancing
I wake up sleeping with the dog.
And it goes: sleeping with the dog.
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