Monday, January 6, 2014

photo diary 6


I  press daisies between the pages
of books I pretend to read.
I press them hard
like the way you touched  me
and then I crush them
between words unsaid
so that there aren't any petals 
left to measure my chances
that I love you not.

//

The other morning I woke up at 5:30 to watch the sunrise. It was freezing cold (maybe it was in the negatives) but I wore  my boots and mittens and wrapped a scarf around my wobbly head. I trudged across the slush and counted my steps. My breath rose in the chilly still air like steam from a hot bath. All I  could hear were my footsteps and the slightest of winds. I could not see the sun that morning because the woods covered it. I think next time I will drive out to the nearest field...I'd like to see the sunrise every morning. You know, when things are repeated too often, they start to lose their value. Maybe that is why quiet people sound more wise-their laconic phrases aren't mere  platitudes filled with mundane words, but instead carefully chosen, meaningful words. At least I'd like to believe so. But sometimes, repetition is what makes something valuable and unique-like the sunrise. No matter what happens, how many mistakes you've made, or feel utterly lost, the sun will always rise. It waits for no one and it does it for everyone. Isn't that lovely? Anyways, afterwards I made myself a cup of coffee and began to watch "La Belle Personne." There weren't any subtitles so I only understood about 5% of it...haha. Afterwards I wrote some, read a little and meditated. The chakra meditation makes me feel small... I still have much yet to learn and feel.

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