where none are written ~

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shoresofhome

of years
where none are written
but the ways
I came to you
cross shores
and crimson moorings
to your side
of age
what use in counting
lest I wake
to find you here
no less
for seasons scattered
as verse upon
the tide

. . .

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of hello ~

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remember

where have i
a lifetime spent
in whispers of hello
wrapped in arms
a moment still
– were miracles
bestowed

of time and space
eternal breath –
my soul again redeemed
beyond the world
of memory
the realm
of silent dreams

a grace recalled
became of choice
beginning –
letting go
a lover’s breeze
against my skin –
a whisper
of hello

. . .

reflection ~

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restless

Just yesterday, I organized an ‘ice breaker’ for staff in our office – a chance to appreciate more fully new members to our group (part of an acquisition).

It was easy enough. From a bowl of skittles, each individual picked one skittle with no fore-knowledge of what the color might mean. Afterwards, we went around the room, sharing based on the color of skittle we had chosen –

Yellow: Last book read.
Green: Funny work related story.
Red: One thing you love about your job.
Purple: What you do to keep yourself motivated.
Orange: A life goal you’re working on.

I selected Orange and was the last in the room to share. Ultimately, I confessed I wanted only to finish well.

But later in the evening, I kept coming back to that little orange skittle and the life goals I had imagined for myself 20 years ago, 30 years ago…..
I’m quite sure I’ll continue to expand my answer as the near nights unfold, but for now, I want to listen.

And I want to give away every story I hold dear.

And still, I want to finish well…

beyond the snare
of days ahead
of nights where sleep is gone
dreams I had
do you recall
each memory become
a story told of wonder
of love I dare not tell
but worry yet
of silence kept
far beyond the veil

. . .

Additions of 9/26/2017 – To assume good in everything and everyone (and to reflect it back so that others see the value I see in them); to give far more than I take; to never stop learning; to listen with more than my ears; to recognize the divine intention in every place and circumstance I find myself in, knowing that the reason I am is part of a much greater I AM.

. . .

resolved to finding ~

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mystery

I’ve heard tell
of skies so blue –
swallows would be
drowning
where clouds for fear of flight –
would roll away
I’ve heard of tears –
ten thousand more
than e’er the heart could suffer –
sorrows tucked
between the dusk
and day

I’ve heard of truths –
the ancient kind
would pull the soul asunder
and lies
would ne’er to think
of causing pain
I’ve heard
of roads beyond the light
paths still left to wander –
a place resolved
to finding –
our way
to love again

. . .

the restlessness between ~

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silence

how seldom this
the beautiful
from which I beg release
nights to nurse
the darkness
without shame
whispers
started long ago
secrets let me tell
about the boy –
I dare not speak his name

or suffer bliss
a moment more
than death will take
of me
warmth to ease
the restlessness between
our first kiss
and forever –
illusion of a sort
lessons –
lest I wonder still
what of all love means

. . .

reminders following a three hour commute to work ~

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20170821_143447

Once safely here, I was reminded of a snippet from Sunday’s message.

The speaker talked about perusing Facebook to look at all the pictures taken during last week’s eclipse. What he saw was something we all witnessed. Millions of people, without regard to politics, race, belief, gender or opinion – all doing one thing –

looking up………

Let us not be fooled into thinking we need a sign…..

 

Author’s Note:  Photo taken from atop of our office parking garage during totality on Monday, August 21.

within a dream ~

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daddy's birds

soul –
was I a reminder
of times beyond your reach
a story (stitched
from memory) –
echoes of release

words and verses
scattered
to places (without name)
a time when there
was nothing –
(and everything) the same

of lives
before our breathing
a souvenir (or two)
a journey made within
a dream –
(the only way
we knew)

. . .

Author’s Note:  I’m not sure where this started, but was pleased with the result.  Then, as I was looking for an image to accompany, I found this one – of the birds outside my daddy’s window more than a year ago.  Of lives before our breathing, a souvenir (or two)…. ❤