Tags
becoming, connection, death, faith, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, love, old maps, passion, poetry, reason, restless, star crossed, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wisdom
how is it
that you know me –
another shade of you
a softer voice
and they won’t sound
the same
choices of surrender
let me share
with you my ways
touch me as I know you will
was never not
always
becoming
this remembrance
of a time before our time
locks were pushed away
and curtains fell
rusted beds
and stories told
of places
undecided
as fit to one –
another was begun
woods and wind –
as verse repeating
carved our tears
to stone –
a memory of leaving
long ago
crushed beneath the centipede
waiting us the sun
immortal now
is teaching us
to know
. . .
tornadoday 
I loved this Bobbie ~ “becoming this remembrance of a time before our time…” wow ~
just beautiful and profound to contemplate ~ thank you dear one x RL
O, Robyn, I’m so glad you like this (and especially that line). Much of the time, I am reminded of things I couldn’t possibly recall……… Thank you! Love to you, precious soul. ~ Bobbie
I really enjoy your words.
Deana, always you reach into the softest parts of my soul. Your kindness is reason enough to keep writing. ~ Love, Bobbie
A wise one once said to me, “There are things I know, and things I know”. Like this, Bobbie, speaks of memories of futures lived and pasts to come. ~xo~ Paul
😀 I can’t imagine who that could have been! Yes, always there are both and some easier explained than others. Thank you, Paul. ~ Much love always, Bobbie
I can only sit and smile as i embrace the magical energy of your words! They are always one of life’s wonderful moments…to touch and breathe in what you pen so delightfully each day! Thanks for touching the deep parts this morning Bobbie, god bless!
And thank you for trusting a piece of your morning to me, dear Wendell. ~ My love to you, Bobbie
…our time is slow but fleeting
our hearts, young but weakening
a gradual awakening
that jeopardizes all
but our will to survive…
Dearest Vimal, your words inspire and I am grateful.
low the heart
awakens
within the realm of dreams
remembers not the weary
‘fore the rest