Don's Blog Time to Recuperate 9-2-26

I have not sent out my flower images and poems as I had a recent fall requiring stitches and am mending well. Time marches on and I will start sending some occasional notes. During my recuperation I have loved watching the blue swallowtails on the zinnias.  I am not one to give advice but if you can I recommend what this poet suggests as a way of life, a way of being. I Lost My Way Once, lived on the tarred, lonely highways truth — slugging towards the looming horizons — the promised dwelling places for those who do not waver. The whole world was about being either right or wrong. I was either lost or found. This was many years ago though. Today when I meet people, I recognize how utterly beyond right and wrong they are — how their lives are symphonies beyond orchestration, how their mistakes and failings are actually cosmic explorations on a scale grander and of a texture softer than our most dedicated rule-books could possibly account for. You see something on my way — and i lost my coordinates, my map, my directives. Now the whole journey is the destination — and each point, each barren point, just as noble as the final dot. Every splotch of ink is become to me a fresco of wisdom, a beehive of honey, a lovely place — and every aching voice a heavenly choir. The world is no longer desolate and empty and exclusive, she is now a wispy spirit, whose fingers flirt through the wind — a million roads where only one once lay. And I need be certain about the road traveled — Since I arrived the selfsame moment I arrived. Bayo Akomolafe