We are radically alive in our simple moments. We stay busy, tell ourselves stories. What does it mean to be alive? We breathe, we breathe……
We gaze out from the fortress of ourselves and scan the world. Judge it. Assess. Is it just enough? Is it wanting? Is it safe? Is it beautiful? Shall we step out and embrace or retreat back into our protective shell, the one we`ve fashioned through our experiences, beliefs and fears.
But you’re in it all the same.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.