a river rushing

to fullness

Born full of void

each encounter

love and joy

countered with pain

and it’s undoing

like poems falling

from trees in autumn

swept away with

promises of returning

filled with scars

In the undoing

love remains

A river rushing

to a glass half-filled

part everything

part nothing




Rumination 64/2016

If you look at a flower and judge it by its stem or its leaves first you are seeing beauty with divided eyes, a bias you impose, but if you look at the totality of the flower it is neither beautiful nor scarred; it is as divine as its Architect. See people for who they are and not for what you disagree with about them, as we are all flowers in the vast garden of the Creator.