Do you know how hard it is to pick up broken eggshells scattered? They shatter smaller and further making picking up the pieces painstakingly difficult; fragile matter.
People say things like: Where did that time go? Things are moving so fast... and it's true, and they are, but when you're in the moment they're not. It is only when you look back or look in the mirror, that you notice time has truly passed, and you see the grey hairs; and exclaim: "Oh, I am old now!"
Wandering far in disillusionment, To the desert of my soul; Crying out in hoarse bereavement, But is it time to take off the cloak of mourning? And ready my voice for a strong testament...
Lean in, more deeply, When your instinct is to pull back (retreat/run). Suspend your doubt, When survival kicks in. This path is known (well-trodden), and It always ends with (in) love.
With a roll of an English tongue We pay tribute to Maggie Smith, from Downton. She was a rare breed, The last of the ton Playing around with Harry And in a dear Sister Act a nun! Bravo old Dame, your efforts were not in vain!
Yesterday, On our way back thru Yack We drove along On a bumpy and windy track On the side of the road Was a rundown tin shack Where the wind blew through every crack We drove gently by Trying to leave it intact On Bells Gate Road hid that idyllic track.
Feet in front of the fire, life pulsating by. As we slow for a second, In the hazy historic high of Beechworth; bank robbers, like Ned, buccaneers and watch the gold rush by.
When one quietens, life speaks. In silence, the volume turns up on that which we are too busy to hear: birds bleeping, frogs frothing, lambs leaping and the wind whispering in our ears; the Soul booms: remember me, I'm all you truly have Listen.
Stuck, enclosed in a glass jar. Child-like, naked, incapable; Round and round in circles, longing to move forward. Freedom the babe craves, dreaming to be the One who opens the lid. Observable to the judging onlookers, Such power was relinquished.