distracted
by the whispering of colourful petals
drawn lately
to the soft rustling of old leaves
i have spent much of my life
looking for your face
in the forest
in her comment, ruth refers to a poem by rumi entitled "looking for your face".
it is beautiful and insightful.
if you go here and scrool a fair way down you'll find it tucked away with other jewels that fell from rumi's pen.
You have made me weep.
ReplyDeleteWe are so lucky to have you in this world, Steven.
Gorgeous new banner photo, too.
Leaving for bed now...taking with me the image of searching the forest through whispering petals and rustling leaves.
ReplyDeleteI cannot wait to dream this one.
Good, very good.
ReplyDeletekathleen thankyou for this very generous and kind comment. the banner photo is of the fallen forsythia petals at the front of the house. they made me think of fish. steven
ReplyDeletejo - happy dreams!!! steven
ReplyDeletetitus thankyou. i wish i could always write little pieces. steven
ReplyDeleteWonderful, Steven. What a rock! What a quest.
ReplyDeleteI also thought of the Rumi poem "Looking for your face" which is so tremendous.
ruth it's a lifetime of work. thanks for the reminder of rumi's writing. i have linked it at the bottom of the post now so that people can read it and know the writing of a true master! steven
ReplyDeleteThat stone made me think of old sculptures...as Venus de Milo misses an arm, this one's face has slipped away...or perhaps merely turned her head.
ReplyDeleteYou always make me think. That's a good thing!
hope i had the same association when i saw it lying in the leaves. a fractured sculpture . . . the face had left to go and find itself. steven
ReplyDeleteI am certainly distracted by the colourful petals in your header, steven - they are exquisite.
ReplyDeletethose words in conjunction with that blank stone allow your readers to imagine a face of their own recognition in that space. what a cool post!
ReplyDeletesteven, between leaves and petals, life goes on, in constant search, even if silent, even within ourselves.
ReplyDeleteoa.s
weaver they distracted me while they bloomed on the little bushes in the front of the house and then when they fell i was mesmerized. they are so simple and then their little mouths and fins really captivated me . . . . steven
ReplyDeletepauline thankyou. each of us could place a face in that blank space. eventually. steven
ReplyDeleteoa.s, in my own experience, the search is noisy and quiet and colourful and dull and dances between form and formlessness. meaning and meaninglessness!! steven
ReplyDelete