> > 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
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment