tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84031815400498817832024-03-13T06:04:41.704-07:00Nature, Art and PoetryThe Art and Poetry of Sherrie LovlerSherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-82889875266391587972021-11-28T20:40:00.001-08:002021-11-28T20:40:52.751-08:00Babbling Brook<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zthMf8RdaE/YaRZSnrKx0I/AAAAAAAABdE/9e-VtvdPx-gm-97bgk9HQ96fjOCQHeyjwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/babbling-brook-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="525" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zthMf8RdaE/YaRZSnrKx0I/AAAAAAAABdE/9e-VtvdPx-gm-97bgk9HQ96fjOCQHeyjwCLcBGAsYHQ/w248-h640/babbling-brook-3.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><p></p><p>If I could sit forever<br />at a babbling brook<br />Would I treasure it as much?</p><p> </p>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-52121548774647401832021-11-04T12:51:00.004-07:002021-11-04T12:53:17.451-07:00The True Mystery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/---CxUadahiw/YYQ5bqC58JI/AAAAAAAABcg/XynNLpz07JYinYn8wxYSoLLWEHZk0-lDwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/lyrical-abstraction-the-true-mystery.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1352" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/---CxUadahiw/YYQ5bqC58JI/AAAAAAAABcg/XynNLpz07JYinYn8wxYSoLLWEHZk0-lDwCLcBGAsYHQ/w264-h400/lyrical-abstraction-the-true-mystery.jpg" width="264" /></a></div><br />We know the things<br />that cannot be seen<br />hold us together— <br />atoms, energy, gravity, thoughts, <br />creativity, memories, dreams,<br />even love.<p></p><p>But the things<br />we do see— <br />the blossoming of trees,<br />children playing, wild animals,<br />ships and cities, <br />mountains and streams,<br />it is this, the visible,<br />that is the true mystery <br />of the world. <br /><br /></p>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-11391674116386509842021-11-04T12:48:00.002-07:002021-11-04T12:51:55.514-07:00Unfolding Beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ydc7CpNCxQI/YYQ4wWqH09I/AAAAAAAABcY/Vo6lb3cgeA0kM3SAy2_mVkBaLWs5oXPqACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/lyrical-abstraction-silver-linings.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ydc7CpNCxQI/YYQ4wWqH09I/AAAAAAAABcY/Vo6lb3cgeA0kM3SAy2_mVkBaLWs5oXPqACLcBGAsYHQ/w229-h400/lyrical-abstraction-silver-linings.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><p></p><p style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Take your time<br />and <i>be</i> everywhere you are.</p><p style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Be here in the mountaintop<br />overlooking the vast land<br />Be here in the land<br />grounding your feet<br />Be here in your feet<br />holding your body<br />Be here in your body<br />housing your heart<br />Be here in your heart<br />opening your connection to others<br />Be here with others<br />opening to the oneness of the world<br />Be here with the world<br />evolving in mysterious ways.<br /><br />Approach her with grace<br />and she will lead you<br />to unfolding beauty.<br /><br /></p>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-43164521073469210252021-11-04T12:44:00.001-07:002021-11-04T12:45:19.241-07:00A New Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fNc84nVKZQ4/YYQ3zYuZPDI/AAAAAAAABcQ/camP2FKsj_MCCRUU0UQMPDgYA3IjIrC-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/lyrical-abstraction-a-new-summer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1282" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fNc84nVKZQ4/YYQ3zYuZPDI/AAAAAAAABcQ/camP2FKsj_MCCRUU0UQMPDgYA3IjIrC-gCLcBGAsYHQ/w250-h400/lyrical-abstraction-a-new-summer.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><p><br />This is our time of reckoning— <br />out of the dark<br /> into a life<br />unsure of itself,<br />into a spring<br /> that challenges our wants <br />with new reality.<br /><br />Behaviors are questioned. <br />We cannot fall back<br /> on the old<br /> as we fashion the path ahead.<br /><br />What joy a hug is,<br /> a laugh in person. <br />Little things in life <br />renewed.<br /><br />This is a spring <br />to be marveled— <br />even the roses<br /> are larger.</p><p> </p><p></p>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-34757639376135831392021-07-01T20:01:00.000-07:002021-07-01T20:01:14.277-07:00Ode to Nightshade, My Cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruZfy5dhSYM/YN6BKUC4FHI/AAAAAAAABZ0/_xQJv4aMz_g0eNV_qd58_liyqLE9vVA-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/nightshade-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="942" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruZfy5dhSYM/YN6BKUC4FHI/AAAAAAAABZ0/_xQJv4aMz_g0eNV_qd58_liyqLE9vVA-ACLcBGAsYHQ/w278-h400/nightshade-2.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Long after you are gone</div>
I will still feel you in the morning <br />
walking on my body, <br />
pawing my face. <br /> <br />
Long after you are gone, <br />
I will sweep up a hair— <br />
remains of lost love, <br />
maybe even find a whisker. <br /> <br />
Long after you are gone, <br />
every pair of dark shoes <br />
seen from the corner of my eye <br />
will catch me off-guard <br />
with a glimpse of you. <br /> <br />
Oh, how I dreamt <br />
if a cat came to my door <br />
I would keep her. <br />
Then you, abandoned in the field, <br />
were brought to me by a friend. <br /> <br />
All of seven weeks old, <br />
you sat in the palm of my hand, <br />
then on my modem, <br />
then on my printer, <br />
and every warm place you could find. <br /> <br />
Playful, endearing, <br />
your long brown hair and yellow eyes <br />
rendered you beautiful. <br />
Your skittish nature <br />
kept you from others. <br />
You were mine, all mine to enjoy, <br />
and I did completely. <br /> <br />
Now, I watch every breath, <br />
every precious moment— <br />
waiting for my heart to be torn <br />
from my body, <br />
reliving 18 years of joy. <br /> <br />
Oh, my little girl, I bid you sweet farewell <br />
as I brace myself for that last gasp of air, <br />
the breaking of earthly bonds <br />
that animals bring to the human soul, <br />
the love that cannot be expressed, <br />
only known. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-25836992738630514502021-06-30T12:06:00.006-07:002021-06-30T12:07:21.332-07:00Triumphs and Challenges<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z7jEeTry4zo/YNzAo9wq1eI/AAAAAAAABZs/qwUt--ltOPcJ73KayQSLjtE3x3CbWiIXgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1080/triumphs-and-challenges-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1080" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z7jEeTry4zo/YNzAo9wq1eI/AAAAAAAABZs/qwUt--ltOPcJ73KayQSLjtE3x3CbWiIXgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/triumphs-and-challenges-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To have lived these days</div>
is to come through<br />
with triumphs and challenges. <br /><br />
Triumphs from little things —<br />
daily changes, <br />
pushing through, <div><br />
lives touched — <br />
some closer now<br />
some more distant. <br /><br />
To not lose contact<br />
with those we don’t see<br />
is a triumph. <br /><br />
To experience seasonal shifts<br />
on daily walks<br />
is a triumph. <br /><br />
To share common experience<br />
with open heart and open mind<br />
is a triumph. <br /><br />
To know that life is worth living<br />
even when people are dying<br />
is a triumph. <br /><br />
Challenges, yes, there are many, <br />
but today is a day<br />
to focus on triumphs.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-50904615500545576172021-06-29T18:37:00.006-07:002021-06-29T18:38:50.695-07:00Passing Through<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F5FlUGZsFKI/YNvKtuVypgI/AAAAAAAABZk/WjE_W0JBvSAYsv9XVrZ_ngx6YMX-ErIpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/passin-through.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="724" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F5FlUGZsFKI/YNvKtuVypgI/AAAAAAAABZk/WjE_W0JBvSAYsv9XVrZ_ngx6YMX-ErIpQCLcBGAsYHQ/w215-h400/passin-through.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I borrow this dust</div>
from a lonely planet —<br />
earth rotting and dry, <br />
scaffolding sent to the heavens, <br />
wanting more. <br /><br />
I borrow this heart<br />
from a worn out soldier<br />
sharing a victory or defeat, <br />
lost in the questions, <br />
lost in himself. <br /><br />
I borrow these eyes<br />
from the one who sees<br />
beyond the surface<br />
into the lagoon of many faces, <br />
into the water of life. <br /><br />
I hold it all, heart in hand, <br />
visions of better days —<br />
freer, more alive. <br />
My longings cast on the mountain, <br />
scattered. <br /><br />
Some held back to ignite me now<br />
as I rise through the blanket of ash<br />
wafting through snippets of dreams —<br />
trying to make sense <br />
of the path I’m on. <br /><br />
Consoling the losses, <br />
encouraging the remains. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-18969890466072824942021-06-28T20:08:00.007-07:002021-06-28T20:10:00.377-07:00Soft Emergence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pblQP6BN9mI/YNqOkS-yqBI/AAAAAAAABZc/RuRDP84P6xIYmGoL3LSfvfe8h7dsuSKrgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/Soft-Emergence-s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="850" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pblQP6BN9mI/YNqOkS-yqBI/AAAAAAAABZc/RuRDP84P6xIYmGoL3LSfvfe8h7dsuSKrgCLcBGAsYHQ/w251-h400/Soft-Emergence-s.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have no idea what it will be like</div>
to hug people again, to be close, <br />
to look them in the eye<br />
without a screen between us, <br />
to see their smile — in real time. <br /><br />
I can’t imagine<br />
eating out of the same bowl —<br />
taking a handful of nuts<br />
that others have touched, <br />
buying food without washing it, <br />
not seeing people<br />
as carriers of disease, <br />
not scrubbing down<br />
everything in sight. <br /><br />
When this is over<br />
will my cells jump for joy? <br />
Will I come out okay? <br />
Or will there be dark holes<br />
that linger, <br />
the scent of rubbing alcohol <br />
bringing it all back? <br /><br />
I wonder if my heart<br />
will explode when the veil lifts. <br />
Or will there be <br />
a soft emergence, <br />
one foot put slowly<br />
in front of the other, <br />
not too far, not too fast, <br />
like toes dipping into a cold stream, <br />
and pace my arrival gently<br />
into the new world —<br />
whenever that may be. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-65314989705839313512021-06-27T16:58:00.002-07:002021-06-27T16:59:04.475-07:00The Winter of My Coming<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2y6Ad1-FCI/YNkQRcA7jyI/AAAAAAAABZU/YX2y1qrj31sMoxRCcmi1x4kB_uLmc-ewQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/the-winter-of-my-coming-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="950" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U2y6Ad1-FCI/YNkQRcA7jyI/AAAAAAAABZU/YX2y1qrj31sMoxRCcmi1x4kB_uLmc-ewQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/the-winter-of-my-coming-2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is the winter of my coming —</div>
the long, drawn out days of retreat. <br />
Over and over I ask myself, <br />
“How do I live today?” <br />
as if, on its own, <br />
it is consequential, <br />
as if every moment<br />
is recorded and revisited, <br />
as if every moment matters. <br /><br />
We live in the time<br />
we were born into. <br />
This one: the beginning of the end<br />
or the renewal. <br />
We don’t know which yet. <br /><br />
Fires, floods, pandemic, <br />
freedom’s decline, <br />
the hidden and the seen<br />
all mixed together<br />
in the same caldron. <br />
We drink of it daily. <br />
It tosses and turns<br />
in our stomachs and minds. <br /><br />
Each of us full, yet hungry —<br />
hungry for life to begin again. <br />
We want what we had, <br />
but those days are gone. <br />
We move forward into the end<br />
or the renewal. <br /><br />
Every choice leads to the answer. <br />
Every moment<br />
metered and noted, <br />
every morning asking, <br />
“How do I live today?” <br />
Every step positioned<br />
as if it matters, <br /><br />
because it is the only thing<br />
that does.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-63060505784720541632021-06-26T17:34:00.003-07:002021-06-26T17:35:37.389-07:00Just Dance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u4So2aiGKDc/YNfHRo-sDpI/AAAAAAAABZM/V-tcKYFvHEY3sHPn7BUQxp7PrEkoJZU9wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1080/Just-dance.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1080" height="315" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u4So2aiGKDc/YNfHRo-sDpI/AAAAAAAABZM/V-tcKYFvHEY3sHPn7BUQxp7PrEkoJZU9wCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h315/Just-dance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Take the bandage off your skin</div>
and dance. <br />
Stop the healing from the outside. <br />
No form of “out there” can help you. <br /><br />
Take the ruins off your shelf <br />
and smash them. <br />
You don’t need the past holding you <br />
where you don’t want to be. <br /><br />
Let your energy expand <br />
in every direction. <br />
There is no guide but silence, <br />
there is no path but here. <br /><br />
There is no better, no worse, <br />
no up, no down —<br />
only your deep inner wisdom<br />
longing to set you free. <br /><br />
Dance and let your voice rise<br />
out of its cage. <br />
Don’t try to tame that wild animal. <br />
She is your sanctuary, your savior. <br /><br />
Dance and feel the rhythm of the beat. <br />
Dance and let your body move. <br />
Dance and wake your sleeping parts. <br />
Dance and then dance some more. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-35108439833654712712021-06-25T11:27:00.005-07:002021-06-25T12:52:12.354-07:00Maybe, Just Maybe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8VvCH14e-A0/YNYf1UaQtnI/AAAAAAAABZE/8K7Q_pNPw5MsdMrLnJ_MN6TH_i0HMhjpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1080/Maybe-just-maybe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1037" data-original-width="1080" height="384" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8VvCH14e-A0/YNYf1UaQtnI/AAAAAAAABZE/8K7Q_pNPw5MsdMrLnJ_MN6TH_i0HMhjpQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h384/Maybe-just-maybe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What if, for example,</div>
the Earth wants us to learn <br />
what it feels like <br />
to have her grasp of life <br />
squeezed out from under her? <br />
Her blood—the waterways <br />
clogged with plastic and slime, <br />
her lungs—the forests <br />
cut clear without concern, <br />
her life force—the soil <br />
denatured and damaged <br />
with pesticides and mono-cropping, <br />
her micro-systems—animals and fish, birds and bees <br />
endangered or killed. <br />
All her life-giving gifts <br />
and sustainable ways <br />
not being cared for and destroyed. <br /> <br />
How would the earth speak to us? <br />
How would she show us she can’t breathe, <br />
that she is dying? How would she talk <br />
so she could be heard? <br /> <br />
Maybe, just maybe, <br />
she would show by example. <br />
She would infect our lungs, <br />
squeeze the very breath out of us. <br />
Maybe by way of a virus <br />
that would spread without us knowing, <br />
that would keep people apart, <br />
break economies, immobilize nations, <br />
leave the dying without ceremony, <br />
with no end in sight. <br />
And maybe, just maybe, <br />
she could teach us to work together, <br />
she could help us see <br />
that we are one life <br />
on the brink of destruction, <br />
that we took our greed and carelessness <br />
too far. <br /> <br />
And maybe we can wake up <br />
and pool our efforts <br />
and dissolve conflicts and boundaries <br />
for a greater cause — <br />
to save the Earth, to save life, <br />
to save each other. <br /><br />
Maybe, just maybe, <br />
we can listen this time. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-82452419679692228432021-06-24T17:13:00.008-07:002021-06-24T17:15:49.182-07:00I Am Covid-19<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YvR3NCbWEF4/YNUfiouk_eI/AAAAAAAABY0/a0zE2li7qtQv5ZDQ4XJE5Idb7UvaZPPGACLcBGAsYHQ/s1023/I-Am-Covid-19.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="1023" height="279" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YvR3NCbWEF4/YNUfiouk_eI/AAAAAAAABY0/a0zE2li7qtQv5ZDQ4XJE5Idb7UvaZPPGACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h279/I-Am-Covid-19.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Do not underestimate me.</div>
Do not think I am done. <br />
Do not think I come without reason. <br /> <br />
How does one stop a runaway culture — <br />
one that has lost touch with itself, <br />
one that doesn’t see beauty <br />
in the natural, the pure; <br />
where bigger is better <br />
and faster outweighs all? <br /> <br />
You think I am the hidden monster? <br />
What about 5G? <br />
That will infiltrate your souls — <br />
unobtrusively at first, <br />
but irreparably. <br />
It will fill your young and old <br />
with internal growths, <br />
destroy your DNA, <br />
and create a global microwave effect. <br /> <br />
Would that you could learn some lessons <br />
before that monster comes. <br />
Would that you could slow down <br />
and smell the roses. <br /> <br />
I plead with you — <br />
help your neighbors, your homeless, <br />
the ones in more need than you. <br />
Honor your doctors, teachers, artists, seers. <br />
Honor the earth, the worms, the bees. <br />
These are your saviors. <br /> <br />
I bring you to your knees to wake you up. <br />
How else can you learn <br />
to appreciate what you have, <br />
before you lose it all? <br />
Your towers to the sky, satellites, <br />
yes, they bring you GPS, <br />
but you have lived without that before. <br />
Your ice is melting, your lands are dry, <br />
fires rage. <br /> <br />
Stop already. <br />
Go back to your roots. <br />
Seek out those <br />
who know how to lead the way. <br />
Your greed has blinded you. <br /> <br />
I am small. <br />
I am your wake-up call. <br />
I am not your invisible monster. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-30739341159474057802021-06-22T19:33:00.005-07:002021-06-22T20:28:53.989-07:00Waiting to be Found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-txmQcbYvrHo/YNKdBdb6qxI/AAAAAAAABYk/eYitKRivQ5sAwKsrpQZ3KBiO1IqtIFOBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1205/waiting-to-be-found-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-txmQcbYvrHo/YNKdBdb6qxI/AAAAAAAABYk/eYitKRivQ5sAwKsrpQZ3KBiO1IqtIFOBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/waiting-to-be-found-3.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was found hiding</div>
far from my pen, <br />
far from my paintbrush. <br />
I tried to escape, <br />
to not do my work, <br />
but I was found waiting. <br />
Waiting to begin. <br /><br />
Yesterday the strawberries found me. <br />
They cried, "We need space, sunshine. <br />
Please make my bed." <br />
They grabbed me for hours<br />
as I listened and complied. <br /><br />
Today the rains came<br />
just in time, <br />
as I waited. <br />
The I Ching says, <br />
"Waiting is not mere empty hoping. <br />
It has the inner certainty <br />
of reaching the goal." <br />
The goal of being found. <br /><br />
The peach colored rose <br />
found me on my trail, <br />
unfolding more each day. <br />
The chalk message <br />
on the sidewalk says, <br />
"smile." I do. <br />
Distant cousins call. <br /><br />
Conditions are simple. <br />
There is slowing down. <br />
It is not all a bad thing.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-85298784247559431522021-06-21T21:33:00.009-07:002021-06-21T21:56:47.238-07:00Today's Horizon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u7FMcIjLBEc/YNFpnKVQvJI/AAAAAAAABYU/ehA08KttS8sOJgu6NWFmm1N5vFgsqYHIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/todays-horizon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="779" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u7FMcIjLBEc/YNFpnKVQvJI/AAAAAAAABYU/ehA08KttS8sOJgu6NWFmm1N5vFgsqYHIQCLcBGAsYHQ/w231-h400/todays-horizon.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Every day I must see</div>
how the horizon <br />
plays with the land —<br />
what colors combine <br />
at that time of day, <br />
what mists cover, <br />
what clouds evoke, <br />
what rains wash away. <br /><br />
What new thoughts <br />
mingle with the wind, <br />
what energy is shared <br />
that takes me <br />
out of my smallness, <br />
my cares. <br /> <br />
I am expanded <br />
into the loftiness <br />
of godliness, <br />
of evolution, <br />
the changing world, <br />
man’s grip and loss, <br />
the warming of the seas, <br />
impermanence. <br /> <br />
And through it all, <br />
I trust the rhythm <br />
of everyday life, <br />
its cycles, <br />
that the sun still comes on time, <br />
and the moon still visits, <br />
that waves break and rivers flow, <br />
and that the horizon <br />
will always be there <br />
to play with the land. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-46067202310901257452021-06-18T11:37:00.006-07:002021-06-18T12:08:20.137-07:00Ancient Ruins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aUEyCJj9Byo/YMznuwpAVuI/AAAAAAAABXg/6Mqp4c5uPb4wSiP626bTE8IX9hYyks-rACLcBGAsYHQ/s1350/ancient-ruins.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="984" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aUEyCJj9Byo/YMznuwpAVuI/AAAAAAAABXg/6Mqp4c5uPb4wSiP626bTE8IX9hYyks-rACLcBGAsYHQ/w290-h400/ancient-ruins.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is a place inside</div>
where it all begins—<br />
not at birth, but before.<br />
Before the ancient seas split<br />
before man made fire<br />
before we were man.<br />
<br />
A seed, a spark—<br />
we tap into it<br />
and from there we know<br />
we are all the same.<br />
<br />
Yes, life has its demands<br />
and challenges and joys.<br />
We are here to feel it,<br />
to experience the truth,<br />
the connections,<br />
the path that brings us home again.<br />
<br />
The idea is to live fully,<br />
to suck the very marrow <br />
out of life, taste it all,<br />
so when it’s time<br />
to return to peace,<br />
we know we have danced<br />
the dance of life<br />
and we are ready<br />
to be on our way.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-65361322787340473012021-06-17T22:09:00.006-07:002021-06-18T10:22:50.191-07:00Presence<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnMBgF8Q88U/YMwqL8YsZSI/AAAAAAAABWo/bzCzmPna1SYQ17Uu1KjmYev275ZqhCf8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1254/presence.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1254" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnMBgF8Q88U/YMwqL8YsZSI/AAAAAAAABWo/bzCzmPna1SYQ17Uu1KjmYev275ZqhCf8ACLcBGAsYHQ/w345-h400/presence.jpg" width="345" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is a hunger</div>
<div class="p1">
for the language of the soul—<br />
a dialogue with the<br />
inner workings of our being— </div><div class="p1">that gets overlooked, tossed aside, lost.
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
This interaction is removed from our culture,
<br />
pushed into the background of our lives
<br />
as if it doesn't matter, or doesn't exist.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
As precious as an endangered species—<br />
the soul is not meant to live
<br />
in the margins of our life.<br />
It is what sustains us. <br />
Our loneliness<br />
is our lack of time<br />
alone with the soul, <br />
it is not from<br />
being alone.
<br /></div><div class="p1"><br /></div><div class="p1"><br /></div>
Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-9409322622213574012020-01-24T15:36:00.000-08:002020-05-17T23:06:42.355-07:00Reuniting with Beauty<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mdchIBDrxA/XsIlt8uCtpI/AAAAAAAABQ8/KmUCttuu_LUu_B4dDSZvCBEyhsYyV_K9wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/reuniting-with-beauty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="931" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mdchIBDrxA/XsIlt8uCtpI/AAAAAAAABQ8/KmUCttuu_LUu_B4dDSZvCBEyhsYyV_K9wCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/reuniting-with-beauty.jpg" width="371" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
Morning is here.<br />
<div class="p1">
I awake to the newness<br />
of the day.<br />
I awake to the adventure<br />
it holds.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Today, like every day,<br />
I have a chance to start over,<br />
to greet the sun,<br />
to smell the flowers,<br />
to bathe in nature<br />
and breathe her in.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Today I smile<br />
with the universe.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Today I accept<br />
the invitation<br />
that beauty brings.</div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-39508821637578682532019-11-03T09:30:00.012-08:002021-11-04T12:39:31.325-07:00Without Winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZutbX-sidF4/YYQyJ2hanhI/AAAAAAAABcA/ptVeHWC_fcQQNVffSDuimMICDFphimK0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1500/lyrical-abstraction-without-winter.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1500" height="299" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZutbX-sidF4/YYQyJ2hanhI/AAAAAAAABcA/ptVeHWC_fcQQNVffSDuimMICDFphimK0wCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h299/lyrical-abstraction-without-winter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Without winter</div>
<div class="p1">
how would we know spring?</div>
<div class="p1">
How would we know the delight</div>
<div class="p1">
of the first bud of the rose,</div>
<div class="p1">
or the sighting of a robin</div>
<div class="p1">
at the break of day?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
How would we know<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
that we climbed out of the drudge</div>
<div class="p1">
that winter holds?</div>
<div class="p1">
That we have been transformed</div>
<div class="p1">
from our underworld dive?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Without winter in our soul</div>
<div class="p1">
how would we feel renewed by love,</div>
<div class="p1">
by the awakening of sleepy cells<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
that long ago remained unchanged?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
How would we know if we</div>
<div class="p1">
passed through hell<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
to come out healed?</div>
<div class="p1">
How would we know<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
what healing is?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Without the depths of our journey</div>
<div class="p1">
How would we know we arrived?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Without winter</div>
<div class="p1">
how would we remember</div>
<div class="p1">
that not a spring comes by<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
without its promise of renewal,</div>
<div class="p1">
its soft colors,</div>
<div class="p1">
enchanting breeze,</div>
<div class="p1">
its welcoming silence, setting the stage</div>
<div class="p1">
for that first sign of relief?</div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-77164708095528712432019-11-03T09:23:00.002-08:002020-01-27T00:41:05.001-08:00Beneath the Surface<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IuBngAMFa0c/Xb8MmBTYn7I/AAAAAAAABOc/cx1dR4rI2eIxoOSLodgeTIjIK1zOGhSKACEwYBhgL/s1600/beneath-the-surface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="701" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IuBngAMFa0c/Xb8MmBTYn7I/AAAAAAAABOc/cx1dR4rI2eIxoOSLodgeTIjIK1zOGhSKACEwYBhgL/s400/beneath-the-surface.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Beneath the surface</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a firefighter reflects,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">even cries.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They did it — they didn’t let the fire</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">spread beyond 101.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They were not going to repeat</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">what happened two years ago.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They were not going to</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">let this one kill more people and</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">burn thousands of homes.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Beneath the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">even though 77,000 acres burned,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">they succeeded.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Beneath the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the new CEO of PG&E gets a</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">2.5 million dollar salary.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">What if <i>that</i> money went to</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">update equipment, poles,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">put wires underground?</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Beneath the surface we pay our </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">electric bill by flashlight.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Beneath the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">no matter how many households</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">had their electricity shut off</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">a single jumper on a tower broke</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and set off a spark</span><br />
<span class="s1">that seems to have started it all.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Beneath the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I’m exhausted from carrying around </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">all my valuables in and out of my car</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">for four days.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Bad air still hurts my lungs,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I had to cancel my class and now</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I’m in bed with a cold.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I blew a fuse last night.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Did they turn our power off again?</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">No, I still see light in the next room,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">but how that thought sent panic</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">through my body.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Above the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">we’ll get past this one. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Friends will help friends</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and life will go on.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">But beneath the surface</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">we are living powerless to the wind,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in fear of flames</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and always knowing what we will pack</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the next time around. </span><br />
<br /></div>
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</style>Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-1978041100958484032019-09-28T22:48:00.000-07:002019-11-03T09:27:24.328-08:00Thirst
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-43ciPkjT88M/XZBFQ_VcKrI/AAAAAAAABOA/76DVE0pCvDQ80c-zEqtUE9PWEBMUPtFBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/thirstunframed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="679" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-43ciPkjT88M/XZBFQ_VcKrI/AAAAAAAABOA/76DVE0pCvDQ80c-zEqtUE9PWEBMUPtFBQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/thirstunframed.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div class="p1">
They are all older than me —</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the mountains, seas, trees.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They hold the wisdom of the years,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the secrets to survive.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They know not to fret</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">over small things,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">that the world goes on around them</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">crazy and blind.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They remain steadfast in presence,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">all drinking from the same pool —</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the one at the center of the universe,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">the one offering me a sip.</span></div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-1369380368490454212019-07-15T18:02:00.001-07:002021-06-17T20:52:22.089-07:00Solstice<style type="text/css">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IHBeMdBPc48/YMwYMeLzmJI/AAAAAAAABWQ/e6XBOsAZn-8szaHSklszZLlMs1izq5dIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1179/solstice.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IHBeMdBPc48/YMwYMeLzmJI/AAAAAAAABWQ/e6XBOsAZn-8szaHSklszZLlMs1izq5dIwCLcBGAsYHQ/w365-h400/solstice.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><br /><div class="p1">Nothing has hindered</div>
<div class="p1">
the advance of summer —<br />
Not remains of fire<br />
or fear of more,<br />
Not crying children<br />
or deportations,<br />
Not nuclear proliferation<br />
or lies<br />
or murders<br />
or the tearing apart<br />
of our country at its core.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
We are bound by nature,<br />
a force as large within us<br />
as around us.<br />
We are one with it.<br />
We are nature itself.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
So when the rose greets us<br />
let us feel renewed.<br />
And when the lavender fields<br />
are in full bloom,<br />
let us, like the bees,<br />
sing in harmony.<br />
And let us drink the fruit of the vines<br />
through centuries, perfected.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Let joy creep into our souls<br />
and celebrate<br />
that we have no control<br />
of the seasons,<br />
that summer still comes<br />
and brings its warmth<br />
and joys and fullness,<br />
and carries us on its path<br />
into the future, into the light,<br />
into the sun.</div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-37711944346414639702019-06-04T12:19:00.001-07:002019-06-04T23:10:56.113-07:00Contemplative Still Life<br />
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<br />
Nothing is still.<br />
So, what does a still life capture?<br />
A fleeting moment<br />
sculpted in time,<br />
<br />
a breath, an instant<br />
that lasts forever,<br />
an image we go back to<br />
again and again,<br />
<br />
like a memory repeating itself<br />
over and over,<br />
creating a vision<br />
that no longer exists,<br />
<br />
yet is there—as real as ever<br />
in our thoughts<br />
in our dreams<br />
in our minds.<br />
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-46360350327234641872018-12-09T23:39:00.001-08:002018-12-09T23:39:15.538-08:00Eclipse<br />
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<br />
As the moon<br />
made love<br />
with the sun,<br />
the glorious glow<br />
impregnated the world<br />
with a sense of awe<br />
<br />
and for a moment<br />
we were all united.<br />
<br />
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-5410323566869138742018-11-10T13:13:00.000-08:002018-11-10T13:58:50.317-08:00To My Ancestors<br />
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<br /></div>
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To you, whom I did not know.</div>
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To you, who took the steps</div>
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to create your future,</div>
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to carve a new path as your world<br />
turned upside down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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To you, who left your country,</div>
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your soil,</div>
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to brave the seas</div>
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and take a chance on life —</div>
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to start over</div>
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to have hope</div>
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to linger in thoughts and dreams and aspirations.</div>
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<br /></div>
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To you, who created the footsteps</div>
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to continue life</div>
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to want more</div>
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to nurture and bring forth a new generation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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To you, who let me be born</div>
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out of the desire of the human soul,</div>
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<br /></div>
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I thank you.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8403181540049881783.post-81350931053617890862018-09-02T22:53:00.001-07:002020-05-19T12:55:18.814-07:00The Road to Nowhere<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br />A happy ending seems unnecessary</span><br />
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when the journey is deep.</div>
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When stars awaken you</div>
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and love strikes a path.</div>
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When silence happens</div>
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at any time.</div>
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When you fall away</div>
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into his arms,</div>
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into another world.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The sun within you rises.</div>
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You slow down—only for a moment—</div>
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but you know you can.</div>
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You feel the life you want.</div>
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You can breathe it,</div>
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almost taste it.</div>
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It is not a means to an end</div>
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but a path full and rich.</div>
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A trek into the unknown</div>
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with no light to shine the way</div>
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yet every step knows where to go.</div>
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<br /></div>
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There is no happy ending—</div>
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only a road</div>
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speckled with beauty</div>
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and trust</div>
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and faith.</div>
<br />Sherrie Lovlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12249050089562279474noreply@blogger.com0