I have the memories of a dead man. They float up from a bog, unwilling to become soil, preferring instead the light existence of wind with weight. No gentle breeze do these make. No welcome relief in summer, no prayer answered from the shade. These come without calling and hang in the air before the mind, ragged, torn shapes of a cloud disintegrating and the slow, sideways look of one approaching with malintent.
- thank you very much. He is the best artist (that I’m aware of) in the nation so I have my doubts, but nothing happens if we don’t try. What’s the point of learning about other people’s regrets if not for our learning? Thanks again.
Holding all things lightly and giving them over to God…. Thank you for this, and I hope you get a response to up email.
- thank you very much. He is the best artist (that I’m aware of) in the nation so I have my doubts, but nothing happens if we don’t try. What’s the point of learning about other people’s regrets if not for our learning? Thanks again.
This is true, and regret is such a strong emotion. Thank you for sharing.