Thursday, 30 January 2014

The Book From Singapore



Post arrives from far away. A gift.
182 similes printed; thumbed, skim read, an embraceable greed: desirous to learn.
One page found marked by a folded corner. Opened, this page speaks of uncertainty. Uncertainty in all things: as the base nature of things.
A tree grows, it says; and how to tell which flowers will blow away and which will bloom to fruit?
Without uncertainty, the joy is less; the petals' value fixed.
Without uncertainty, no quest: it makes a futility of any bravery test.
Much to mull over as the sleep coffee balance is recalibrated.

3 comments:

  1. Sigh. Just sent out five queries after strong inner turbulence had me paralyzed for upwards of three weeks. The perfect post.

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  2. Thank you lovely ladies :-)
    Keep sending Suze! xxx

    ReplyDelete

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