It is so interesting to observe myself. At times I can feel the pull of 50 things I could post each day, longing to share and to engage with the world at large full of unending energy. At other periods, I can enter into this little bubble withdrawn from what can feel the solidity of it all, cocooning softly inside a hard shell, the world long gone; cozy, quiet; not wanting to come out and play at all.
The funny group of thoughts that keep circling the drain and feeding this post all ask if there is actually anything to withdraw from? These little roaring words lead to others and one moment soon slips into the next.
Oh, the joyful hard light growing pains of being alive. I think later this week I am going to take love back out there, into the world… I think I will head to the coast and let the beach walk all over me.
Entering the Shell
Love is alive, and someone borne
along by it is more alive than lions
roaring or men in their fierce courage.
Bandits ambush others on the road.
They get wealth, but they stay in one
place. Lovers keep moving, never
the same, not for a second! What
makes others grieve, they enjoy!
When they look angry, don’t believe
their faces. It’s spring lightning,
a joke before the rain. They chew
thorns thoughtfully along with pasture
grass. Gazelle and lioness, having
dinner. Love is invisible except
here, in us. Sometimes I praise love;
sometimes love praises me. Love,
a little shell somewhere on the ocean
floor, opens its mouth. You and I
and we, those imaginary beings, enter
that shell as a single sip of seawater.