The days pass by, the grass grows, the fields grow rich with green, the heat rises and the rain falls and in all of that a unique voice rises to embrace the life it represents.
So, this morning, listening to some old style pickin' I heard the overtold stories of pain from broken love relationship and drugs. I wonder when the poet/singer looks out to those fields with wonder at the beauty of the life around us. Is that what a Poet Laureate does? Is that what story tellers are?
I think life is only known by the truth in the telling, and there is more future with that truth than the one we are bombarded with daily. The latter is one of violence and despair. Such a contrast with what I look at from my window to the prairie fields.
"Life and all of its possibilities is there, right in front of you." I tell myself that as I move through the day and in each moment, the one I am in, is the beauty I search for.
So, this morning, listening to some old style pickin' I heard the overtold stories of pain from broken love relationship and drugs. I wonder when the poet/singer looks out to those fields with wonder at the beauty of the life around us. Is that what a Poet Laureate does? Is that what story tellers are?
I think life is only known by the truth in the telling, and there is more future with that truth than the one we are bombarded with daily. The latter is one of violence and despair. Such a contrast with what I look at from my window to the prairie fields.
"Life and all of its possibilities is there, right in front of you." I tell myself that as I move through the day and in each moment, the one I am in, is the beauty I search for.
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