Category Archives: prose poem

Just Go Gentle

The cold wind gasps, the clouds weep. It was their last time to see and to say goodbye to that departing leaf of autumn. Everything has changed. Their world will be different from now on though they will still go to work, brush their teeth, drink … Continue reading

Posted in Beauty, clarity, Connection, Contemplation, Deeper Truth, Inner Knowing, Inner Life, Knowing, Love, Moment of Peace, Peace, prose poem, Remembrance, Ruminations, sentimentalism, Spirituality, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

That Kind Of Peace

5:30 am. Ink dark outside. Cold. Breakfast of oats, flaxseeds, banana, avocado, raw honey, almond milk, yogurt and organic green tea and poetry. And this simple yet calming poem by Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things,” touches my being … Continue reading

Posted in autumn, Beauty, clarity, Connection, Contemplation, Deeper Truth, Inner Knowing, Inner Life, Knowing, Moment of Peace, Peace, prose poem, Ruminations, sentimentalism, Silence, Spirituality, Stillness, Uncategorized, Wondering | 4 Comments

On Silence

Slow rhythm of the season. There is growing darkness. And then there is silence. Silence echoes more prominently in being alone. And it gets deeper and deeper and deeper as it expands, slowly. Deep thoughts emerge and float in silent … Continue reading

Posted in autumn, Beauty, Connection, Contemplation, Deeper Truth, Inner Knowing, Knowing, Moment of Peace, prose poem, Ruminations, Silence, Spirituality, Stillness, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Calmness Blossoms

Seeing what is true and knowing at 6:38 in the early morning, sunday. There is depth in sustaining silence as the neighbourhood remains in a temporary vow of silence at this time. I am reading a poem by Rumi. The … Continue reading

Posted in autumn, Beauty, clarity, Connection, Deeper Truth, Inner Life, Knowing, Mystery, prose poem, Silence, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Hidden Teachers

A dried leaf still clinging. The heart breaks open. Deeply aware. There is silence, embracing everything. Hidden teachers appear from nowhere as I listen to silence. Subtle teachings. A squirrel stares at me. Time stops.

Posted in prose poem, Subtle Teachings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments