Tree of Life

  A life tree

If I could I would sculpt this tree, for it symbolises the basics of life for me.

First survival.
Up there in the Lions Head cliffs, that tree, found enough to make a life, in mostly soil- and water-less stone. A life against wind, summer-dry, winter-storm, man-fire.
Then, strong,
it nurtures, shelters as it can.
Then majestically when it can, maybe because of its views, it blossoms.
That tree is me. Foot-burnished roots entwine with my worn-in toes.
That living tree hears the creeping closer chainsaws of the Fynbos-Fundamentalists;
And I hear the distant song ethereal
That tree, even those cliffs and me, we are.

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Regular Rhythm Run

In the doing it's done,
in the singing it's sung,
under the moon it's run.
A repeated-enough-rhythm,
drum-sung, drum-run,
lets us sing our hearts,
run our soul,
wink the effort-glow.

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In the moment

Ran into the moment, its dazzle and glow.  Went back for its perfecting sparkle and flare. Then in that shimmer saw something more; ran to it too. In that running, the moment marvellously began to blossom.

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Every step I've run is there in each step I run. Every summer too, and every song I've sung. So I go on, foot after foot. My life fills more, passes less.

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Run writing

I ran into life.Writing running engaged my mind. Leg-mind running opened my soul. Mind-Feet-Soul running deepened the thrill of being, let me run my mystical miles. More waits for me to run-write-run.

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My feet have run me far. Worn in, worn well. They glow. With a twinkle in the toes, a tingle. They get my affection. Often they scrabble, eager.

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Beginning

Here then running. Running, running long, running life, through universe warmed and welcomed by its magnificence. Running this foot on the ground then that, over and over, deeper and deeper, soul full-filling, spirit flaring ever flowing.  

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