Napping in the park. Sunshine syrup when I open my eyes. Greens & grasses seem unreal, melting together with the bird calls & swishing trees.
Can I rest my mind? My body sinks into clover and my lids grow heavy. Can I let go of becoming for a moment and just be? Why should I let a moment of rest confirm my torpidity? A sabbath puts the insatiable quest of younger years to sleep and rebuilds potential energy. So much of my life is kinesthetic, why fear vacuity?
Sunday, March 20, 2005
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