the sun
which never
stops giving
without asking
why …
the sun
which never
stops giving
without asking
why …
the wind knows it
without pausing for
a million years,
a hollow shell of
itself, in search of it.
where does the wind
come from?
it always seems to
have somewhere
to go. it seems to
encompass the
very best parts
of direction.
i often long to be
submerged in the
ocean’s depths,
surrounded by all
that subterranean life,
defying gravity
with an ephemeral grace.
but it is the wind
that tugs at the
heart of me
as it rustles up
what has been
long asleep,
imbuing me with
the magic of
the free, and
making promises
i know it can keep.
I will dance in the
wind and let it
carry me home. – TS
if we can dress our
wounds with love,
and not understanding
what that means,
adopting the curiosity
of a child, unafraid,
ready to explore
their edges and borders,
ready to slide in
to find their story
of origination,
ready to embody
the whole being
of which the
wounds are a small
part … watching
them grow smaller
in our spirit of
implicit acceptance
and exuberant play. – TS