A storyteller

“A man can stand anything, except
a succession of ordinary days,” says Goethe
You altered the way I see
and even the way I feel
You ride the arrow
Of time and nudge your neighbor
To follow a voice you are following
Not the herd
But a voice from another mountain
A struggle to climb
The sweat and the joy
How to tell a story, a generous
Telling from your grandfather
You hear a Park Ranger and tell it well
One can be born twice
And be a storyteller.

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.

Time

Enhance your experience
The wastebasket is not full yet
Symmetries are abundant in sounds and numbers
Difficulty shall not be the first step
A tribe can lead to the next
In darkness you can hear whistling
Interruptions are shadows between lights
The liminal spaces, glimpses of returns
The mind brings and scatters, the bees and the butterflies
The neurons connect the patterns and coincidences
Learning to see not only with one’s eyes
Lots of questions and the search for truth and beauty
I will learn to sit still
The universe is expanding
The garden is lovely in spring.

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