Quiescent, the river
that flows through me
nudged on by a sea
I cannot touch

I am bud resisting
the bloom, reluctant.

If this life is spoiler
for what lies beyond,
then leave me,

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

38 thoughts on “Reluctant”

  1. A well-known contemporary Zen Master was asked ‘what happens after Death?’ He replied that he did not know. His questioner protested ‘But you are a Zen Master!’ To which he retorted ‘Yes, but not a dead Zen Master’ 🙏

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