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| Today in the mail I got a card from a friend far away; she reminded me about this word:
humility. . . .
It changes everything.
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| My town. Not quite ready to say goodbye.
* "The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land." - G.K. Chesterton ***
Departure date draws near-- Major doubts, major fears uncertainties surface... Temptation to, as always, run away live in the past, replay replay replay but life doesn't move forward based on memories..
It will come, anyway.
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| 1
Like trying to grasp the sentiment in the voice of someone missing home
or standing still to hear the endless tilt and turn of the earth:
knowing that which is immeasurable giving image to that which is image-less feeling the almost imperceptible.
2
There is no address To forty years' wandering, But amidst this barren desert
persists some hope floating within yet just beyond reach In between the registers of time
and an interim--space where waiting is a high virtue and believing is only ability to see.
3
It's a place before arrival but after departure; "Already; not yet," You say,
Where thirst means I am alive
Desire and need meet And struggle is sign Of life:
4
(divine) Discontent Dis-desire Dystopic nostalgia
Wresistance Wrestle Wreason-- Worth it?
Squint Stand Strain for An answer from afar.
5
A veil, transparent one moment, Present and beckoning-- Next moment seduced.
The weight of physicality is tangible, but prone to disintegrate and disavow,
into the dust that swiftly flies away disappearing with the solar winds.
6
I gasp for air in a place unfulfilled waiting for consummation
Holding onto a corner content to grasp tightly onto the glimpse, finding some solace in futility--
hovering between beauty and brokenness.
7
Distance unbearable Feet falter into a Dis- stance: Fall finally no ground necessary.
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| "Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting." -Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco | | |
| | I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God. . . . I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. t.s. eliot.
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