“hark, now hear the sailors cry,
smell the sea, and feel the sky
let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic…”
Go here to join in.
Khalil Gibran once said that people will never understand one another unless language is reduced to seven words.
What would your seven words be?
My seven words are not be words as such,
seven words for the attitudes of humans.
With these attitudes the correct words will flow.
Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed. Describe this experience.
I don’t really expect anyone to understand this one…but I had to write it
A shabby piece of paper,
lying on the dirty sidewalk.
Meant for me, that I know.
Must be from him.
He said he wrote me many a note,
but threw them away,
in the dirt where they belong.
One got away, today…
bending slowly, grabbing the note.
I shudder as I read the words,
scrawled in cursive, blue ball point,
penned by harmful hand.
My heart bleeds.
My shoulders ache.
If only I could be relieved from this
a very dark day.
If only with kind hand,
he wrote the note.
If only he would say,
just how wrong and apologise,
for being so perverse and bad.
It could have filled my heart with song.
A white dress I’d wear
with a rose in my hair
a white dress, a rose in my hair.
A white dress…