When a wicker burns-out quicker,
and another’s will burn no more,
nib a dry nub asleep in a wizened nest,
it’s nice to know, though cold indeed,
there’s no need now to heed
the urge and goad of goat heat,
no need to coax or be caught
to pressure, beseech and feel
the close reach up against the ropes.
A litany of no goes to plural of peaches
and peace is a rosary of yeses said
in the silences between diminishes.
When you come to admit, at rest,
it’s all over, bent, sore but soft,
relieved neither bothered
nor bother anymore will be,
breaths roses fall,
almost not fall, slow pink petals,
and a peaceful evening now alone
in bed on a needless night.
By the way….a beautiful bit of poetry!
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…a place of equanimity…
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“Protector of love and compassion.”
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Catcher in the Rye?
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“Neither a thought nor an emotion, it is rather the steady conscious realization of reality’s transience. It is the ground for wisdom and freedom and the protector of compassion and love. While some may think of equanimity as dry neutrality or cool aloofness, mature equanimity produces a radiance and warmth of being. The Buddha described a mind filled with equanimity as ‘abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility and without ill-will’.”
— [6]
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Exactly.
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Comin thro’ the Rye
ROBERT BURNS
[First Setting]
Comin thro’ the rye, poor body,
Comin thro’ the rye,
She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie
Comin thro’ the rye.
[CHORUS.]
Oh Jenny ‘s a’ weet poor body
Jenny ‘s seldom dry,
She draigl’t a’ her petticoatie
Comin thro’ the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro’ the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need a body cry.
Oh Jenny ‘s a’ weet, &c.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro’ the glen;
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need the warld ken!
Oh Jenny ‘s a’ weet, &c.
[Second Setting]
Gin a body meet a body, comin thro’ the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body cry;
Ilka body has a body, ne’er a ane hae I;
But a’ the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the well,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body tell;
Ilka body has a body, ne’er a ane hae I,
But a the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the town,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body gloom;
Ilka Jenny has her Jockey, ne’er a ane hae I,
But a’ the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
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