Wednesday, July 18, 2012


We grow attached to familiarities and want to hang onto them tightly thinking they offer us a sense of security....when all along we never feel secure. It's hard to fathom that it is in the letting go of them and stepping into the unknown/unfamiliar that something better moves in.


It is not water
I cannot lie in it
nor can my hands reach forward
...for any rhythm to draw me near
to where a shore might be

It is not ground either
no place for a foothold
nor can my eyes find mountains
where fields might serve the stay of stones
that harbor only hunger for the here and now.

It is not completely fire 
though the burning has begun 
to singe the chords that tie the heart's basket 
to the one tree I thought I knew. 

It is more the air that has lost it's nerve 
to hold the vase of thought 
the word scratched air 
that lets the white rain in 
to wash the red font of memory. ~~~ John O'Donohue

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