sacrifice

Sing To Us Still

We face ourselves to illiminate our woes, but what if we are trying to save ourselves from what ensures the picture of our own existence and that of Humanity?

The reason for which we abide is not always to confront, nor escape our trial or discomfort. The meaning and purpose of our lives and our place here is not only about us.

We may find ourselves doing things that we, or others, can make little sense of at times and I have found:

If I cannot escape perhaps I am not meant to, or just not at the time I think I should. If I cannot ‘break free’ from ‘my cross’ perhaps I am meant to pick it up and carry it to my end.

It is sacrifice, not always chosen. A thorn in our side – which keeps us human and maybe humble.

The reason and purpose are not always, even seldom, known.

I come to you with a word.
I come to you in this life.
The Universe is.

Apart and a part of all we hear.

She speaks, we speak

Sing to us still.

I.W.

Happiness

Happy.

Accepting of this place.

I am without yearning nor fathoming, nor wishing to change it by my own hand, other than be who I am within my hands.

Still there is the abyss. I stand upon the edge catching a glimpse of all that moves below the surface of everything existance is.

The stongest voice I hear, though silence it my soul does try, remains-

A whisper, a rhyme, a nightingale shrine, the dream from before till tomorrow, the lost puzzle piece, the whole storyline.

I am grateful and peaceful with and for that, and feircly furious on the edges of my maddening mind.

IW