Tags
becoming, bliss, breath, connection, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, life, love, memory, passion, reason, restless, soul signature, spirit, truth, wandering, wisdom

Of places remained ~
as fate to becoming
this one (of so many)
held part of the dream
From a sense of belonging
were we found to be treasure ~
and knew (as we know)
of lives passed between
Of memories shaded
death becomes futile ~
as babies reciting
their stories of earth
Of distance once more ~
on roads so familiar
rivers o’erflowing with wondrous birth
Of moments no longer
the ways through the past
or flowers forsaken
to seed
When holding as one
to life just beginning ~
as mother and father
our children indeed
The last of illusion
was starting to see ~
as eyes worked as one in the dark
As breath of the greater
in coming thus far
as journeys back through ~
one soul to embark
Of truth reconstructed
from feather and blade ~
water washed over by stone
From dreams of the many
one night
shall return ~
with lessons and letters
from home
In beginning another
from places forgotten ~
were parts of the whole
without memory
of more
Of time when for nothing ~
the rest we’ll remember
awaiting the one
when beginning
before
…
The “Neverending Story”… Each new beginning is merely the renewal of an older beginning. There is no end.
xo
Paul
True enough ~ we are alway starting. Thank you, Paul. Your light spills to my smile. ~ Love, Bobbie
This has a sweet music to it
Thank you, Seb. It became music when you heard…. ~ Love, Bobbie
The seasons of love in our lives…you write of it in a very disciiptive way. Sometimes the harvest is plentiful and sometimes it is few. Over years sometimes love seems distant, sometimes it leaves a kindred spirit wondering if it has died. But love when it is constantly massaged maintains a flicker, an ember or a spark that never dissipates, leaving with times when its great , times when its not so great, times when we want to get away, but when we stay we get many more good reasons to keep giving love an old school try.When we lived with our siblings when we were young, there were a lot of times where you did not like each other, but you still loved them, you wanted to beat them up when they did something to you, but you still again loved them. When they hurt your heart, there was pain but you still loved them and you grew knowing that ever blossoming love. When all else is said and done love remains, but sometimes our patience slips away. But i think that love with all of us is not always a 100% thing because we are imperfect…but 70-80 % is still much better than nothing. Love constantly grows it starts small and grows larger every year. Maybe we ask too much, and want it to be perfect…but what is really perfect unless from God? So as with other things in our live, the changing seasons always brings something new and suprising whether good or bad! We who are strong roll with the punches. This rambling of mine is what i felt as i read your poem…it may not make sense…but love endures in the end! Your poems are always lovely to read and enjoy!
It makes perfect sense, Wendell……. My granny said it best when she said, ‘never let a problem to be solved become bigger than a person to love’. When in doubt, love. When you’re hurting, love. When you breathe, love!!! I’m touched that mere words could stir such beautiful emotion. Thank you for this lovely gift, Wendell. ~ My love to you always, Bobbie