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How fortunate are we, how fortunate are we…
Timeless creations, never created, breathing, yet never hold a breath, singing our way, dancing our way, to nowhere but a place to be
…just to be
I AM THAT BIRD
“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself “.
~ D.H. Lawrence
I am that bird that sat upon that tree
Looking all about of me.
I am that bird that stilled and died
And it’s true no tears, this bird has cried
Yet I this bird, still chose the tree
Though I will die, it still comforts me
This heart therefore is not so lost
It’s true I’ll die, but I still avoid the frost.
Even though we believe in truth
And accept we perhaps, have no proof
Except what agrees within our hearts
Still we are human, playing the human parts.
Like this bird someday we all will die
We can question and ask the reason why
There is nothing wrong for us to find our tree
To ask their protection and help to be.
When we shelter upon that place
And God looks gently upon our face
When we look at deaths own door
And human fight can fight, no more.
Lay your head upon your tree
Whisper softly, easy and gently
‘I am a bird that sits upon a tree
I love that you are here with me ‘.
The world of trees with a universal song
Will sing to the universe to which you belong
‘ This is our sister the world let roam,
treat her well, love her, then take her home ‘.
Credit: poem © justme; Image; © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserve
The action surrounding the connecting of two, leading to the rhythm and joining together as if one, is the fulfilment of a desire of completion, once standard, then lost, once passive, then searched. The same action is not determined by an act of free will, but triggered by a memory of what once was. The memory provoked and stimulated through the gross or the conscious is an indication of the completion and , left by others, the beginning of existence.
Credits: writing © justme; Image © CarinPhoto; All rights reserved