A Thousand Years

This morning there was a beautiful spider’s web blocking my path to the flower garden.

I had to break it to pass.

Preparing the garden for planting, I felt badly as I pulled out each of the weeds.  I wondered why we are so intent on destroying them.  They are more beautiful than some of the flowers I intend to plant, and some are even good to eat.

Who decides these things for us, these things that we are expected to believe?

I think that next year I will only have rocks in my garden.

        while the bells ring
        the morning glories
        simply open

Many people believe that running away is simple, but it is not.  Much as we try, we cannot easily escape the past.  We carry it around with us constantly.

It is not like a knapsack, however, that we can lay down temporarily when it has become too heavy, or if the road is too steep.  It is more like a turtle's shell.  It is our home, our security, but also our prison.

At one and the same time, we are both the jailer and the prisoner of our past.

autumn wind

the sound of things

dropping from trees

I’m sure you believe, even after all this time, that I still dream about you every night.  I don’t know.  You may be right.

Usually, I can only remember the smallest pieces of my dreams.  They are like broken eggshells that are left behind in the nest, after the young birds have flown away.  In the mornings, it’s so difficult for me to remember what my dreams were about, but very often I do awake with a lost and unsettled feeling.

So, you may be right.

I must have been dreaming about you.

        solitary and silent
        a willow 
        in the moonlight

                                                        --Marco Fraticelli

                                                           A Thousand Years