 It feels like happiness
But I know that's not the word I want It's like this realm, this place that I sometimes tap into, and want more of. I feel it when I am enthralled by the sight of butterflies or fairy terns in their aerial dance above me or when the sky is filled with amazing cloud formations or sunsets.
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 Every so often as you go through life
You come to a crossroad It's that fork, that intersection, you have to face And you're not quite sure where to go. You do this weighing on the one hand this And then, that's on the other hand. You listen to friends who you can trust And you hope to finally understand.
 Love is logical It makes sense Two people attracted by mutual energies or interests or chemistry. And you experience together a bonding And you want it not to end. So you declare love for the beloved. Why doesn't it last then? Why is it so hard to find and maintain?  Fear is illogical
Fear is anti-love Fear causes you to question Whether or not you deserve this blessing Whether or not your beloved deserves you Whether or not there is another better illusory lovearound the corner There will be challenges - Overcoming fears, Having faith, Working through trials, Time and again But if love is good For the most part, Then why not choose love Choose to love one another.  I put the poem in this frame, and as you can see, there's a glare. I was going to retype it, but the spacing and all is so unique. I have kept this poem, found doing spring cleaning, since 1979. I know this date because Quest/79 is in the footer on the page from which it was clipped. All my life, I have pondered this question about being in happy isolation from the world, or being an explorer of the world. Islanders deal with this tension a lot, do I stay or do I go? As an adult, a lot of who you are is defined by this choice that you make. My play, Island Space, was about this tension.
 In the right light,
even the brown weeds overgrowing on the side of the highway are beautiful. And don't forget the purple flowers that fall to the grass in May, earning the name the custodians use, rubbish tree.  You do not travel this world unclothed
Upon your coming You are bestowed with gifts of finery And as you grow, you are dressed Think of this clothing as treasure, Not to be hoarded but shared Yet not to be squandered Vulnerable to theft.  There is energy to be tapped
in disappointment Whether it be in a job or a cause or a political figure or a relationship The hope for success For dreams come true For visions manifesting Had energy. But when that hope dies What happens to that energy Defines you. |
