Praying Buddha, Waikaloa Village, Big Island, Hawaii
We like our hot chocolate thick, Madelyn and I. Speaking on the phone today we shared a giggle about chocolate stew...that's about how thick and rich and milky it simply must be. Decadent. Luxurious. Reserved for nights that you feel like blowing a small fortune on expensive chocolate and starting from scratch in the saucepan... :)
We also spoke of moons.
Which reminded me of this favourite poem of mine by Robert Frost.
The Freedom of The Moon
I've tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I've tried it fine with little breadth of luster,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water start almost shining.
I put it shining anywhere I please.
By walking slowly on some evening later,
I've pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,
And brought it over glossy water, greater,
And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,
The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.
***
Rather lovely, isn't it? Poets paint pictures with words, the way sculptors can carve ideas out of wood, like the praying buddha above. Before it was a buddha, it was a tree. Buddha's are trees. Right? Buddhas appear, much like we all did. Then they go back to where they came from. Like we all do. Only to do it all again.
Let's be like the moon. Let's be free. Free to love, dance, drink chocolate stew, travel, fight then makeup, sleep with wicked dreams. Wicked good that is.
Oh if not for poets, I don't know what I'd do.
I'll be around this week for vizzies. I promise, and if I don't comment you'll know I've been anyways. I always read even when time allows me not for comments.
Whatever your fight this week, remember the moon. Remember you are the moon. Free. Don't worry guys, this too shall pass.
xoxo
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