What is life if not an excuse to love a little longer

What does it mean to remember?
And what does remembering mean
The days as they pass are fleeting
And some things grow gentler unseen

Snow melts
To soften and nourish the earth
And leave tender spaces
For the young things to bloom

And the roses that lay
Untouched on this splintered land
Still bloom, still bloom
As they bloomed before
In the day

In the darkness of becoming
I saw, I was a seed
In that dark and sacred place
Full of life and full of need.

Gasping, grasping every breath
A gift I take, I bleed
Into sweet light I dare to grow
A choice, no choice - I'm freed.

We were what we were
And we are what we are.

There is many necessary things about the past

The Mundane is sacred too
Without it you are ungrounded
The there profundity in the simplest things

.

Are you truely Serene, or do you amputate yourself of the chaos of life
(  and think yourself above it? )

All water flows
towards the sea, they say
I think what happens when I cry
Is that I would like to be washed away
.
Ice melts beneath the heat of my flesh
Life giving water drips
From my eyes to my hands
To my finger tips
And to the sea
.
Snow melts
To soften and nourish the earth
And leave tender spaces
For the young things to bloom
...
The heat of my passions cool
Like mist in the trees, it settles
On my skin
Mischievous and solemn -
spirits beckon me, they tug on my clothes
To dance, or die..

I've been washed away