Life in spite of everything 7 … Just another poem…

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Young wild mint in an abandoned courtyard, in the crack of concrete.

My soul … wild mint.
Sweet and bitter in the arms of the earth.

Hidden in gentle grass … Gentle grass as a gentle tree …
In a gentle embrace.

One cracking soul …
A new life …
Simple, plain, eternal…

In the heart of the night silence smells strong and smooth.
I live in my heart’s silence.

Simple and plain.
Me, myself and I.
Wild mint and gentle grass. Everything.

Young violets: leaves hidden in the grass.



Life in spite of everything 6 … Just another poem…

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People…

… I LOVE peaceful people … when I sit with them and shut up … and I understand everything … the glaciers break up and grow new, the worlds are falling and raising up… passing epochs and new people coming

we are silent and …

… I LOVE restless people … when I sit with them, we break up gorgeous storms, we get bored and mischievous, we cry loudly and laugh loudly, loudly and with joy …

… I LOVE cheerful people… when I sit with them, I’m jumping, dancing, dabbing and hanging with or without common sense, and I can …

… I LOVE depressed people … when I sit with them, we are just tired willows, in the mists, and we see the clear rivers flowing past us … together, the interwoven and firm roots that keep the river …

I love little ones, big ones, sharp, dumb, pale, crazy ones, clowns, ridiculous, yellow and black and colorful, blabbers, peanuts and methusalems…
Sometimes I hate them, just a little… sorry😣

Life in spite of everything 5

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My life before CFS was adventurous.
I don’t need adventures, just nature and silence.
I miss Palagruža, remote and wild island.
Palagruža is great motivation for keep going.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.