A nice old man at my work passed away last week of cancer. Ray.
The following poem was in his funeral service.

Not how did he die, but how did he live?'
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units that measure the worth
Of a man, as a man, no matter his birth.
Not what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspapers say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away.
Anonymous

Voltaire

"God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh."

I don't really know what to say right now, but I'm bursting with a desire to communicate. Thus, I'm using other people's words until I can truly find my own.

A little love...

I am disappearing into poetry once again. Doing some spiritual nourishment. Maybe I'll move some.
Reading poetry brings solitude and peace. It is walking through an art gallery in my mind. I find pace, rhythm and self- observation that is truly my own.

At a Window
by Carl Sandburg

Give me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!

But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day end,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.

Myself and My Person

Myself and My Person
by Anna Swir

There are moments
when I feel more clearly than ever
that I am in the company
of my own person.
This comforts and reassures me,
this heartens me,
just as my tridimensional body
is heartened by my own authentic shadow.

There are moments
when I really feel more clearly than ever
that I am in the company
of my own person.

I stop
at a street corner to turn left
and I wonder what would happen
if my own person walked to the right.

Until now that has not happened
but it does not settle the question.

Virginity by Anna Swir

One must be brave to live through
a day. What remains
is nothing but the pleasure of longing—very precious.

Longing
purifies as does flying, strengthens as does an effort,
it fashions the soul
as work
fashions the belly.

It is like an athlete, like a runner
who will never
stop running. And this
gives him endurance.

Longing
is nourishing for the strong.
It is like a window
on a high tower, through which
blows the wind of strength.

Longing,
Virginity of happiness.

I am graduated! I did it. Good for me.

My parents arrive on the 31st. No plans for exact return to my homeland. Soon.

Much Love

Man is most nearly himself when he achieves the seriousness of a child at play. - Heraclitus

Wow. I'm a bit lost. It's okay.