Putting into words those favorable and sometimes unfathomable feelings...
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
My muse, my muse, my muse has gone astray.
Gone westward and gone there to stay.
When looking I don't find,
When speaking I don't hear,
Familiar musings so I could tilt my ear.
And the thickness of the days each
Gone with the sun and ended incomplete.
When remembering I see,
When storytelling I doubt,
Times of sharing tea remain, singularly.
Old arts and myths can collide
And find me taken back to that time:
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,
Unbearable Lightness of Being,
Stories of these unfold in my mind.