Reflections at Astorga

[Lexicos]

Slowly the light comes, gently-softly the night melts away. The sunflowers, weary from the heat of yesterday are bent, their yellow heads pointing to the ground. The birds lie silent in their nests, all is quiet, not a sound. The sky is white, flat like a sheet, big and empty. The watch on my wrist ticks away the seconds, one after another they mark the passing of time; the hours, the days, the months and years. I know by this that my body is growing old. That I am getting older, that one day my head, like the sunflowers, will be pointing to the ground. I know that this minute is everything, I know that it is nothing, I know that it will pass, that the cogs and wheels of my watch and of the universe will keep turning and ticking, that this little heart of mine will keep beating. I know that soon the birds will leave their nests and start singing, that the sun will come out and fill the sky with golden light and the sunflowers will once again point their heads towards the sky. I know that I will be moving on tomorrow, leaving all this behind and trying to make sense of this world, this cosmos, this senseless and godless world where nothing works as it should; not like my watch, or the rising sun; predictable, reliable, unfailing. We are natures flawed experiment, perfect and imperfect at the same time, forever seeking joy in places where it does not grow.

 

[malingerer]

Slowly the light comes, gently-softly the night melts away. The sunflowers, weary from the heat of yesterday are bent, their yellow heads pointing to the ground. The birds lie silent in their nests, all is quiet, not a sound. The sky is white, flat like a sheet, big and empty. The watch on my wrist ticks away the seconds, one after another they mark the passing of time; the hours, the days, the months and years. I know by this that my body is growing old. That I am getting older, that one day my head, like the sunflowers, will be pointing to the ground. I know that this minute is everything, I know that it is nothing, I know that it will pass, that the cogs and wheels of my watch and of the universe will keep turning and ticking, that this little heart of mine will keep beating. I know that soon the birds will leave their nests and start singing, that the sun will come out and fill the sky with golden light and the sunflowers will once again point their heads towards the sky. I know that I will be moving on tomorrow, leaving all this behind and trying to make sense of this world, this cosmos, this senseless and godless world where nothing works as it should; not like my watch, or the rising sun; predictable, reliable, unfailing. We are natures flawed experiment, perfect and imperfect at the same time, forever seeking joy in places where it does not grow.

Really liked this so please keep writing.

Walk soft. Stay safe. Vaya con Dios. Buen Camino.

The Malingerer.

 

[Former member 49149]

@Lexicos, I hope you are familiar with @malingerer 's posts...

 

[John Crawford Howell]

Slowly the light comes, gently-softly the night melts away. The sunflowers, weary from the heat of yesterday are bent, their yellow heads pointing to the ground. The birds lie silent in their nests, all is quiet, not a sound. The sky is white, flat like a sheet, big and empty. The watch on my wrist ticks away the seconds, one after another they mark the passing of time; the hours, the days, the months and years. I know by this that my body is growing old. That I am getting older, that one day my head, like the sunflowers, will be pointing to the ground. I know that this minute is everything, I know that it is nothing, I know that it will pass, that the cogs and wheels of my watch and of the universe will keep turning and ticking, that this little heart of mine will keep beating. I know that soon the birds will leave their nests and start singing, that the sun will come out and fill the sky with golden light and the sunflowers will once again point their heads towards the sky. I know that I will be moving on tomorrow, leaving all this behind and trying to make sense of this world, this cosmos, this senseless and godless world where nothing works as it should; not like my watch, or the rising sun; predictable, reliable, unfailing. We are natures flawed experiment, perfect and imperfect at the same time, forever seeking joy in places where it does not grow.

Beautifully written, Jim.

 

[Ptrckmcconn]

Slowly the light comes, gently-softly the night melts away. The sunflowers, weary from the heat of yesterday are bent, their yellow heads pointing to the ground. The birds lie silent in their nests, all is quiet, not a sound. The sky is white, flat like a sheet, big and empty. The watch on my wrist ticks away the seconds, one after another they mark the passing of time; the hours, the days, the months and years. I know by this that my body is growing old. That I am getting older, that one day my head, like the sunflowers, will be pointing to the ground. I know that this minute is everything, I know that it is nothing, I know that it will pass, that the cogs and wheels of my watch and of the universe will keep turning and ticking, that this little heart of mine will keep beating. I know that soon the birds will leave their nests and start singing, that the sun will come out and fill the sky with golden light and the sunflowers will once again point their heads towards the sky. I know that I will be moving on tomorrow, leaving all this behind and trying to make sense of this world, this cosmos, this senseless and godless world where nothing works as it should; not like my watch, or the rising sun; predictable, reliable, unfailing. We are natures flawed experiment, perfect and imperfect at the same time, forever seeking joy in places where it does not grow.

In time, perhaps you will find your way, and the answers that work for you.

 

[Sue127]

Wonderful words, thank you

 

[Lexicos]