so i sit.
staring at this wall...
neither alive,
or dead.
somewhere in between...
i am.
somewhere folded upon my breath...
i rest.
somewhere touching the icey cold window pane...
i look.
it is this stillness the gives me identity...
neither irish nor american...white....nor black...
male nor female...
...just still awareness...
i am.
staring at this wall...
neither alive,
or dead.
somewhere in between...
i am.
somewhere folded upon my breath...
i rest.
somewhere touching the icey cold window pane...
i look.
it is this stillness the gives me identity...
neither irish nor american...white....nor black...
male nor female...
...just still awareness...
i am.
my dear Ros...
ReplyDeletei have tried to reach you but this damned blog
will not cooperate!!!
hello, I'm back.
ReplyDeleteHey we commented st the same time! I hope you are keeping well Greg.
ReplyDeletehey i just came back...i must have missed u
ReplyDelete