Now
To these sheep grazing on the hill,
It is not Wednesday.
It is not 6:34, or July,
Or our pinnacle days of summer.
It is not infancy or maturity,
Youth or old age.
Nor a workday or holiday,
Not weekday or weekend.
To these sheep grazing on the hill,
To these calves basking in the sun,
To these birds that soar above me,
It is Now.
Seek peace,
Paz
Comments on: "Now" (5)
beautiful-How peaceful to consider this,
My goal is to get my mind to feel that way always.
I’m afraid the only real way to achieve that is probably senile dementia.
But I’ll keep working on it!
Paz
you are funny-but perhaps we may at least appear senile, if we are so peaceful-compared to the( normal) state of chaos in the world-ha!
It is now. I’ll try to make the most of it!
Great thing about Now, if you miss it…
…here it comes again!
And it’s now…
Paz