Yearning

Completeness

You bend your head to listen
Changing the direction of your thought
The umbrella collapses against the wind
You stand up and leave the conversation
You are afraid you lost something
Your life yearns for completeness
Something bold and ordinary
Like the hundred quests to fold origami
Imagine the mystery of longing
With a simple lantern to guide the way
To find the piece missing
And all the steps to the last breath.

note: Mrs. Abstract and I visited Sequioa National Park. We stayed at a B&B with a beautiful miniature fairy garden.

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Mrs. Abstract enjoying the morning reading a book next to one of the three rivers.

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Sometimes

Sometimes we walk randomly in distant places visiting townsquares,
straying in fisherman’s dock loitering in public parks

Sometimes we meet strangers, randomly in booksstores and get into conversations

Sometimes we exchange informations, ordinary and simple notes

Sometimes we extend invitation to continue the conversation

A short walk becomes long, morning extends into evening
Randomness becomes a purpose and goal

Goes on and on and offers an option
an awareness of feelings, association of certain thoughts

Cutting sentences into fragments and rearranging randomly
We feel distance and attentiveness of each other

We are not walking dictionaries waking up tired words
We are solitary walkers walking randomly and meeting

Where do you want to go?

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The Little Things

The Little Things

To search a question is not to find an immediate answer
But to hear a voice that may lead to an understanding

Unfurled, uncoiled, unchained
free like a kite unleashed
You glow while saying each word
as if they are sacred

She goes out with her camera
anxious to discover a world,
new and independent from her mind

Where do you start
When you want to piece together a broken bowl
You will learn from the small pieces
Opening the closet and selecting a new pair of slacks and blouse
Which scarf to wear on a misty day
What to prepare for dinner
The little things like learning to love again

Vanishing point

Pearls of laughter, precious and soft
The laundry hanging, rhododendrons of peach and purple
Photos of them together next to a giraffe
Arranged themselves in her mind
While she walks on the beach
with no vanishing point
Where children are playing,
Two are chasing the gulls
and laughing
They will not be at the tea ceremony
dainty mountain of gestures and formalities they want no part
One day the memory will rise
And remember one own’s happiness
Like a child waking up
Her eyes looking at her mother
Her mother smiling at her

She turns around and walks back
The children and the birds are gone
The sands are changing colors
Someone waves from a distance
She continues her walk on the beach
With no vanishing point.

Remembrance

Lift the veil of early hours
Look at the mirror
to see what you want
You see not what you need
You have to remember the instructions
which key, which book to open
The best songs once lodged in loneliness
rising with the first light
You are not a star that fell from the sky
But a stone picked from a dry riverbed
You are experiencing difficulty of change, fragmentation
13 dishes from the blackbirds to feed the masses
the song birds are gone, problems remained
You return to the room
sit next to someone in a lotus position
hearts beat in silence.

note: I finished reading Circe by Madeline Miller. Entertaining,flowing prose.