we must have met for a reason. what can i learn from our soft acquaintance?
and the way you reflect my life to me?
war happens all the time. wars inside our own individuals heart--what in the world does that mean? all of us with each little choice, chance for change, can lean more towards dictatorial behavior or beneficence.
stuck in my little box, maybe peeking out for a handshake or a hello, bomb blasting my own faith in the world's benevolence, messing up my body territory with uneasy, false thoughts, making the terrain shaky to walk on -- sometimes peace is a process -- has much to do with do-overs. re-enacting wargames
with whiffle-and-racquet-balls, we all go home in our separate cards, high fives and smiles, brews and soda pop cans cracking wide open, no more escalation of any offenses taken--
sometimes peace has to do with work, sweat, airing out those nasty feelings--even to the air--and allowing them to flow through, dispel as fever. sometimes peace takes years. compromise. peace is already here but sometimes it only shows itself to you slow, sliver by sliver, behind geisha girl shutters.
and it takes that kind of patience borne of work. open vessels. not knowing it all. biting that lip so as not to invite a fat one
choice. reframing any offense. glossing over things with love-full eyes. sometimes peace has to do with shrugging things off. if our bodies are primarily made of water, can we, then, flow more, like oceans? can we channel that god-goddess water power to help each other float, erode hard rocks in moment
after moment after moment? can we cover our thought landscapes, too, then, with that soft, yet solid solution?
and the way you reflect my life to me?
war happens all the time. wars inside our own individuals heart--what in the world does that mean? all of us with each little choice, chance for change, can lean more towards dictatorial behavior or beneficence.
stuck in my little box, maybe peeking out for a handshake or a hello, bomb blasting my own faith in the world's benevolence, messing up my body territory with uneasy, false thoughts, making the terrain shaky to walk on -- sometimes peace is a process -- has much to do with do-overs. re-enacting wargames
with whiffle-and-racquet-balls, we all go home in our separate cards, high fives and smiles, brews and soda pop cans cracking wide open, no more escalation of any offenses taken--
sometimes peace has to do with work, sweat, airing out those nasty feelings--even to the air--and allowing them to flow through, dispel as fever. sometimes peace takes years. compromise. peace is already here but sometimes it only shows itself to you slow, sliver by sliver, behind geisha girl shutters.
and it takes that kind of patience borne of work. open vessels. not knowing it all. biting that lip so as not to invite a fat one
choice. reframing any offense. glossing over things with love-full eyes. sometimes peace has to do with shrugging things off. if our bodies are primarily made of water, can we, then, flow more, like oceans? can we channel that god-goddess water power to help each other float, erode hard rocks in moment
after moment after moment? can we cover our thought landscapes, too, then, with that soft, yet solid solution?
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
for their own good of course
[Edited on Apr 01, 2003]
Sometimes that's good and sometimes not so much. Anyway, I'm gettin' along.