This river knows nothing but her name
She is the hard blue muscle
That pumps blood into the mouth of morning,
The woman who sits at the edge of sorrow
Grafting time into the shape of a clay pot or reed basket,
Insatiable with longing and filled with the ovaries of stars,
The mind of all things drawn to silt and sludge,
To pools and ferns.
Currents streak her back with a name that means dreaming fish
Where ripples of reed ducks and water rats pattern hieroglyphs
Against her wide green thighs.
She is the water that we shed as tears, scooped up by the hands of night
And poured into the throat of day, turquoise and lapis, emerald and jade.
The moon hums against her skin. Continue reading
Will no one stand up for me,
I am all things can’t you see.
I give you air to breath, the life that feeds
I nourished you from birth.
Never once have I ask for anything,
always a silent friend.
We are as one and one we are when will you ever learn,
to know when you are lonely that you are never alone.
For I walk with you in the shadows, through the dark and dim lit roads,
when the wind is light and the sun is bright, my beauty in you shines through. Continue reading
It is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for both yourself and others will come. ~His Holiness The Dalai Lama