feeling comfi? Watch out!

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I don’t know how it came about
It slowly crept on me.
This comfi cozy feeling
Of sofa, bed and tea.
It came upon me slowly
Just take a break it said,
“Rest a while, you’ve done enough”
Resounded in my head.

And so I took it easy
As my life began to dim
I’m getting older gracefully
I said to doubts within.
I lost my sense of purpose
The thing that egged me on
‘f I’d continued with my dozing
My life would soon be gone.

As so this year I’ve promised
Something to myself,
If I think a thing I do it
Not put it on the shelf
To come back to it later
While the time is passing by
There’s so many other options
to do before I die.

Am I Too Busy to Live? (A cross roads in life)

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knight

Time slips through my fingers like precious coins spent in pursuit of trivia, shopping, school trips, cleaning house, daily necessities like showers, drying my hair, brushing teeth, sleep.
Now I’m retired it’s no different except the annoying need to rest more often, to chill, times when mind or body sink in exhaustion telling me – enough! At such times I resort to a good book, movie or puzzle, but something tells me I’m missing the point somehow.
I know it’s about focus, when I’m focused I accomplish far more and prioritize better, yet I find myself stumbling through days in a never ending muddle, like a car wandering slowly down the road with no one at the wheel, life happening upon me rather than under my direction. (There’s a time we need to grab the wheel and take control lest we amble off a cliff!) It’s not that I don’t have the time it’s more how I spend it. It’s not the doing of the trivia that’s the problem but the focusing on it.
You see something burns inside me. There is something more here I’m meant to do but I haven’t quite found it. Presently I can’t see the wood for the trees, and time is running short, so is power and energy.

I’ve always been a bit of a “fighter”, often achieving the “impossible”. My life is strewn with miracles and fulfilled dreams. I have been greatly blessed! Yet I know there is something yet to do, an intangible “something” that I can’t quite put my finger on, hidden by the fog of “doings”, a thing that will fulfill me, and my final purpose here.
I need a retreat, a time to thoroughly cleanse my mind of the trivia and focus, a time to stop my “business” and take new compass readings on where I go from here. The rest of my life and the things I choose to surround it with are mine to choose. I know I’m meant to write, to pass on those things I’ve learnt in my journeying to others, but what exact form that should take is a mystery.
I’m reminded of when I made sculpture. Like Michelangelo, I always felt there was a sculpture hidden within the block and all I had to do was chip away the excess to find it. Life is like that too, sometimes you just kind of feel your way towards something and the image becomes clearer and more defined. You don’t always need to know your destination to begin the journey.

Dream Master 2

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falling leaves

They wait in the serenity of the forest, breathing in stillness, spirits calm, eyes taking in shafts of light filtering through the canopy above. Birds pepper the silence with songs of freedom and the fresh smell of earth invades their nostrils. They don’t know why they are here or what called them, only this is where they are meant to be. Called from many places, transported on the breath of dreams to this spot, they linger, glancing at each other. A tiny leaf swirls, drifting from its place among the foliage. Separated from its peers the wind bears it as it wanders slowly downward. A bud that swelled in pride and opened its mouth to the sun has shriveled and let go its hold. It sighs upon the wind seeing no purpose in its demesne, not seeing the eyes tracing its course upon the air. The wind unseen, the leaf beheld, transformed into its compass. Unnoticed the dream master emerges. “Don’t be afraid, let life’s wind catch you,” he whispers. “Dance in its embrace as it guides you on your way.” Many leaves begin to descend for the season of falling leaves has come. They lie on soft earth, alone no more, carpeting the forest in hues of red and gold..