Yesterday was good
long hours of light. a walk. a peaceful talk.
the sun like lavender oil
dusk like soft fleece
mostly solitude.
Last night
I slept so well
I can’t recall my dreams
they seem thick and warm and far away.
I awake to a brilliant summer dawn
Why do I keep wondering what is the purpose then of life?
Why can’t I breathe sweet fragrances
and eat delicacies, and lounge with friends
in the summer afternoon
and write for pleasure
and be content?
Because
what about God and Self and Seeking and Love and Poetry?
Well – what about it? Perhaps there is no difference.



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