Friday, November 01, 2013
Poem by Jan Elvee
There are paths,
no destinations.
Meditation is a path,
painting is a path,
dream work is a path.
At times we arrive
at a fixed point, a way station,
where we feel at home.
We stop, we rest.
Slowly or suddenly,
it changes, it dissolves.
We find ourselves
once again on the path
that beckons us on
to nowhere special.
Jan Elvee, October 31, 2013
