Again I throw myself in the river
The river carries me to the sea
I thank the tide,
I thank the stream,
For the river knows more about me,
than me.
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A melting pot of paint, poetry and philosophy
the anti-salmon
Did a long reply then pressed the wrong button and lost it. Grrr Blackberry!!!
The way… is difficult to describe, the poem is my flawed attempt to articulate a rare fleeting feeling of being a seamless part of everything. It’s hard to ceaselessly trust in this ‘flow’, it still carries connotations of the whole Flower Power thing… which I struggle with, both spiritually and culturally, but in the back of my mind I try building hope, about people, how they treat each other and about how wonderful love is. It’s kind of at the back of everything.
Peace out :)
I get what you are trying to say. I can also relate to the inner flower child rebellion going on vs culture/spirituality and making it all mesh.