I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen,
Of meadow flowers and butterflies In summers that have been.Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.
I sit beside the fire
And think of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.
For still there are so many thingsThat I have never seen.
In every wood, in every spring
There is a different green.
I sit beside the fire
And think of people long ago.
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door--
J.R.R.Tolkien and Bilbo Baggins
What a beautiful poem that came into my mind as I sit, not beside a fire, but beside a parabolic electric heater and think of what to write. I feel the need to write something maybe just to clear some space inside my brain or maybe to set the thoughts free to soar. Maybe it's in hopes that the right person will read the words and understand some of the things I have always had such a hard time conveying. Whenever I try to write my deep thoughts, deep fears, deep hopes and dreams, they seem to scatter like shadows from the noonday sun. I have had a few titles in mind lately that seemed like could launch literary brilliance and clean out some clutter in the closets of my mind at the same time. But when I start a de evolutionary spiral causes second guessing and doubts sabotage the inertia needed to boldly go. In other words I get thought tied and the weakness of my writing skill betrays my emotion.
All I ever wanted was to be understood. To have the time needed to give and receive trust. When I tried to be perfectly clear I created contradiction by fearing the great unknown. When I tried to protect my own fragile ego I sent a mixed message. Being afraid to lose was the act of faithlessness that weakened the chain. Over protecting my heart must have made it slow to respond. Knowing it was too good to be true undermined whatever chance there was. Stubbornness to re calibrate all these things ended the equation. Sometimes ground must be given up in order to move forward.
I figured that out a little too late...
To Live is to Love
if you are not doing both you are not fully doing either.
There are many ways to love
many ways to feel
I still feel Loved, its different yet the same
just because things changed
no one need take blame
I am so thankful it was real
I feel lucky I got to know
More lucky all the time
The moment lasts forever in my heart
and all love does is grow
in different ways
its more today
Tomorrow? who's to say