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Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Mind Forests

Old trails of pain
Through forests in our mind
Become well-worn
And ingrained with time.

To make new trails
Towards hope that's sublime
The trees must be parted
So new paths can wind

Do not tread the old trails
Leave the memories behind
They become overgrown
In the forests of time.

W.T. 23/7/2020

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

The Cup

You see this goblet?

For me this glass is already broken.

I enjoy it.

I drink out of it.

It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns.

If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it.

But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over, or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, 'Of course.'

When I understand that this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious. Every moment is just as it is, and nothing need be otherwise.


We attached our feelings
To the moment when we were hurt
Endowing it with immortality.

It travels with us
It sleeps with us

It hovers over us when we make love
And broods with us when we die.

There is only one remedy for the hurt

And it is forgiveness