I am the soft of you
and you are the soft of me.
There is nothing
that taints this great love.
Nothing,
not even the words
you cannot say
while I stare,
while I marvel at your majesty
and blooming life.
Sweet nature.
Sweet love of my life.
I see you, darling.
Where do thoughts go
once we have thought them?
Where does the wind go
once the storm has passed?
And why do so few wonder about life,
why do they not ask more
magical questions?
Like where do thoughts go?
(And the wind: are they together, somewhere?)
And how is it that these words
came to be called
words
when there is surely
a deeper dimension to language
and life
that will never be captured
by labels
and concepts.
I’d like to find the sunshine
beneath my pillow, when I wake.
And I will cup it in my hands,
and I will hold it close and whisper:
‘Shine, sweet little light.
Shine ever brightly,
might the pathway ahead
light and walk with me.
Dearest Bloggy friends,
Merry day, to you all. Just taking a moment to send you all the love hearts (because I can’t seem to stop myself- and because love hearts are the best).
To those of you struggling to make it through the joy of the season: it’s okay to cry. Please do. How beautiful it will feel to release.
To those of you who have found joy and more: I’m so pleased for you. Life is for living, and joy is one of the most beautiful seasons.
To the parents: rest. It really will be okay.
And to the rest of you: yes. I do think you should have that extra slice of cake.
Lots and lots of love, Brooke. xxx
I do not care to be seen.
I do not wish to scramble,
do not wish to fight my way
to the top
to be seen,
to be loved
a little more than this.
Perhaps I should try harder
to care.
Perhaps I should wish
that I might choose,
one day,
to fight like them
until I have been
chosen
and loved.
A little more than this.
How lovely.
The wind of peace.
Here.
Now.
My
how lovely.
Death, I suppose, does that to us. It’s one of those accidental growth inducing things that none of us actually want, but do end up getting from time to time. Lessons in perspective. Lessons in gratitude, these are just some of the positives that can come from death knocking on our doors. But today, death has broken me. And my empath metre is still reeling.
I’ve just read an article written by a Mum recounting her five-year-old sons final days. Cancer. To say I struggled to hold myself together wouldn’t be accurate. To say I fell to pieces is absolutely correct. What a devastating, devastating thing: to lose a child, and yet people do experience this sort of loss in life, and far too often for my liking.
I felt I owed it to that precious little man to reiterate the message his beautiful, heartbroken (positively grace-filled) Mum put out into the world, on behalf of her little boy. To live and love, is surely the greatest gift. To live now, to be grateful for this. What’s here. What’s out the window and how beautiful it is. To see that it’s pointless fussing over the little things, when there are even more little things to honour and cherish in this mixed bag of a life we live.
This Mum. She was given a beautiful gift, in the end, when her son’s final words were: ‘I am happy Mum.’ I am happy, Mum. It makes you think how dumb we are worrying about the extra weight we might put on over the holiday period, doesn’t it? It makes you think that, in the end, all we’re really here for is to realise nothing matters but the people we love, and love itself.
Anyhow, I should stop this because it’s going to take me down, again, but I think I’ve said it all, anyway. Most of you already know the way I view life. It is short and beautiful, and we have one chance.
One sweet, sweet, chance.
This is it.
This is it.
This is it.
They didn’t understand her,
but they allowed her
just to be.
And that,
she knew,
was a wonderful, wonderful
wonder.
Oh, the heat
that I see
that I feel
that I know.
I will be the flame
to my own fire.
I will light the path
of burning
sweet
eternity.
The concept of listening to music.
Curious.
Close your eyes.
Where is the music?
Are you listening?
Or is the music
in
you?
