before going to bed i realize i've become a piss-poor correspondent. that perhaps the poets and poet/friends in this world and the ether, which is simply part of this world, don't know that i think of them often. and that life is brief and sometimes ecstatic as it is also slow and calm. and death is always just a bit away from us.
and if the above doesn't make any sense i'll simply say that i suppose i'll never have time enough to say all that i think and mean at the time i most want to say it. if that makes me sound rather hippie-ish, okay. i do believe all you need is love.
i think. and so tonight i read this from geof huth:
No person is ever complete. We are always in the process of being created.
no matter our age and station in life, i add. which perhaps explains why after 20 years i'm interested in tattooing again. that subject is fit for another post. for this rant i'll end by again quoting john, paul, george and ringo: 'in the end the love you take / is equal to the love you make'.
i hope that's right.
1 Comments:
I feel you on the impossibility of keeping all meaningful connections current. So many good people have crossed my path and I think so fondly of them, and I too feel guilty or maybe not guilty, just sorry really, that I haven't necessarily kept the lines of communication open. Still, if we ignore time, or think of it as something other than linear, those connections are still fresh and meaningful.
Re: the Beatles song you quoted: I've never been sure I understood that line. Somehow the idea of "taking love" sounds ominous and not at all equivalent to "getting love". How do you read it?
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