The art of doing nothing

Do not read or think upon the evening meal
Nor tarry in worry like the constant turning wheel
Forget all things undone; there is no finishing
Be still awhile and watch the world

Let fall the things of doing and dwelling
The work, the leisure and telling
Release yourself from relentless toil; there is no finishing
Be still awhile and watch the world

Some arts, long forgotten and trampled down
Are lost yet must be found
The most creative and restorative of these
Is the art of doing nothing, with ease

Let the dust settle and fall where it will
Don’t be lost in constant movement
Relax about the things left to do; there is no finishing
Be still awhile and watch the world

Do not seize the day with constant doing
Bide some time in vacant focus
No matter how hard you think it; there is no finishing
Be still awhile and watch the world

Warm Air

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I remember the warm air
A place between dragonflies
And childhood
Chasing up and down the stream
Trying to catch the future
In golden blues, and greens

I remember the smells
A time of summer
And innocence
Bracken camps and heather
Trying to slow the present
Like trying to catch a feather

I remember the idle chatter
The things we did
And friends
Dappled sun on meadowed woods
We played with passing clouds
As though we always could

I remember so well
With a clarity of age
And love
Like a baby to it’s mother
We could not be parted
As we held onto that summer

I remember those first drops of rain
Beneath the trees
And ending
Each raindrop became a year
As they washed away our youth
And left us stranded here

 

How long

I have found myself in words
Described, chastised and adored
Excited depressed and deplored
Full stops with full exclamation
In words my final declaration

How long in time will it be
For there not to be one trace left of me
Not one particle of dust, nor thought or deed
How long before I was never here?
When every last trace has disappeared

No child to carry the burden on
No burden to carry the child on
I have found myself in words

Notes

I have found
In these passing notes
A sustenance
A transient meal of sharps and flats
A place of peace
Of grace
Buoyed by the chords; minor and major
My fingers trail in the waters of life

When I was born

When I was born
I awoke in a paradise alone
I knew no one
And no one knew me
I left my home
My love and friends
When I was born
I awoke in paradise alone

When awoke today
I awoke in paradise alone
I know some people here
But no one knows me
This could be home
But home is a feeling
Which does not come from here
When I awoke today
I awoke in paradise alone

When I fall asleep
I shall fall for ever

Major to Minor

There is a pause in the music
A subtle shift from major to minor
The atmosphere changes and becomes melancholy
As though the sun has become hidden by the clouds
People lower their heads
Letting  tears flow
The cello lays bare the audience note by note
Eventually there is no one left but me
And the silence