As days pass into years, one after another,
Some feel longer or fuller than others,
How is that so? Especially when some moments… days,
pass by like a wasteland.
Did I get anything done today? Was I loving?
Maybe those type of days occur for time to water my unconscious thoughts, my hidden desires, like grains that long to come forth?
Time has a way of bringing, showing, healing… the ground needs to be made ready. Wastelands can become gardens over time.
What I think is a lost day, might truly be the fullest day for my interior self.
Is that what life is? A longing to live it fuller, feel it sweetly, hold it closer, dive into it deeper, share
it like confetti on new year's eve?
Turning sixty has increased reflection it is a given and gladly taken.
I do not want to think I should have done more, I want to believe in the garden of time.
The longing to be more than yesterday or more than a million tomorrows can hold is simply a quest:
Life and love and longing the eternal voyage to becoming whole.
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