French la Vie

 

 

 All those little things that say something that words fail to or actions deny. All those little things that let us know that the moment is right, that we are on to something good, that it is okay, that we will be alright.

The way the morning light reaches into our bed, the way the hot water runs down our bodies, the way the church bells ring just at a time when silence needs to be broken.

The way a strawberry taste or a daffodil springs yellow into the darkness, or the way a kite tail plays in the wind against a cool blue sky.

The little things that speak a message out of nowhere to a listening heart.

 

 

 

The hands of another time connecting me the ways

of the past, that feels the same as now.

How can I describe it?

How is it when the soul is stirred…

A song on the radio,

Several words strung together in a poem,

How the leaves dance to the ground,

and the shot burst through the ground,

Oh and the softness of shadows playing on a wall

Nature's ballet.

 

 

 

 

Karma.

This is what I believe:

Whatever I do, or say, whatever you do or say, whatever anyone does or says comes back to the whole.

We are one. 

Not one.

I believe whatever I do or say affects us all, not just me. If it affected just me that would be too easy, too much like right and wrong, to infantile: Oh you did good you are going to have a golden star. Or you did a bad thing you are will be punished.

What if Karma meant, what if sin meant, what if love meant:

Whatever you plant, it will bloom, you might not benefit from it, but you will give

to the future of love or evil, light or darkness, hope or fear, joy or sadness, being one or being alone.