A Memory

A memory lingers after you've left,
a memory of golden hair and soft blue eyes;
of warm laughter and loving tenderness.

A part of you remains in every place,
in the sigh of the wind in the poplars;
the dripping of the water from the roof
or the shadow of a reed in the river.

The lapping of the water on the rocks
has captured your gentle laughter;
from what seems long ago, you smile at me
through the velvet heart of a wild iris:
your love keeps my heart warm and soft
while mine grows by day and by night.

The memory dwells familiar in many places
but with much impatience and urgency:
for a memory is a lost soul in the night
and to live, needs the touch of the real:
will you come back and give it life?

 
             I Awoke

I awoke to the serenity of time,
as the sun rose over faraway hills,
I had decided to climb.

Filled with awe at the blossoming
of this new day, I thought:
Where does wisdom come from?

Then I saw a great eagle circling
as a reflection in the deep blue:
it seemed to speak to me then...

“Wisdom is not written in books;
it is not found at the feet of a great one;
it’s what one has become
through the lessons life teaches
one can now see and share.

For wisdom can not be imparted
with mere words, for words
are but the photograph, an image.
Wisdom must be demonstrated
and only thus can others decide
 if what they see
 may be beneficial to their life’s passion.”

It was a fair walk to those hills
so I started my day’s hike then
and as I walked
amongst a silent wilderness,
filling my senses with endless impressions
I realized, perhaps for the first time
that wisdom’s source comes from within;
from my own understanding;
my own acceptance of life’s flow;
from free will that is truly free.