An attempt to draw the rambling of the incoherent thoughts visiting my mind very often lately...
There is much more to learn, much more to experience... much more to get hold of, even more to let go. At the end, it is what we do that defines us - and that keeps our memory floating in space next to the purple birds and on the minds of faithful souls. But are we really what we do?
We drift so much from who we are
We fail to find our true selves, by the end of the journey
Growing up, is an odd occurrence
Even odder, is maturing
Each age brings with it its own flicker
Sometimes it makes us smile, sometimes it makes us sad
Sometimes it is promising, other times it is pathetic
Each age has its colors and shapes
And those are reflected in our minds and on our skins
The layers add up as we grow older
Habits we acquire, knowledge we gain
Holes we fall into, mountains we climb on
Experience accumulated, as years pass by
But where is the “I”?
How would we know that who we are at this age, at this time in this space… is who we were born into?
Where is the essence?
There is a thin line between the truth and the total obliteration of it
Will we be able to ever draw this line?
Poems for Jennifer III - I am very happy to announce the availability of a third book about my wife, Jennifer S. Chesler. They are on sale here from Nickel Hole Press. There are ...
7 hours ago