Saturday, November 04, 2017
Seven Ways of Dying
Seven Ways of Dying
Gentle clouds keep passing over the sun.
Light dims and brightens,
dims and comes back full.
This music carries us elsewhere.
Is this who we are?
Some call it bliss.
Others ecstasy.
Does the name matter?
This canvas has been painted over
many times before.
Now it is a tangle
of soft color,
seeking meaning.
This storehouse of memory
is being emptied
one by one waiting
to be filled
once more.
Somehow I seem to
know this place,
the heightened colors, the love
that infuses even
the tiniest leaf or flower.
Is this what I was before?
Or is it only silence
and darkness
that awaits?
These too are beautiful.
Dorothy Walters
November 4, 2017
