“The days aren’t discarded or collected, they are bees
that burned with sweetness or maddened
the sting: the struggle continues,
the journeys go and come between honey and pain.
No, the net of years doesn’t unweave: there is no net.
They don’t fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river.
Sleep doesn’t divide life into halves,
or action, or silence, or honor:
life is like a stone, a single motion,
a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves,
an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal
that climbs or descends burning in your bones…….
Each in the most hidden sack kept
the lost jewels of memory,
intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses…
We the mortals touch the metals,
the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,
knowing they will go on, inert or burning,
and I was discovering, naming all the these things:
it was my destiny to love and say goodbye ” ( Pablo Neruda, ‘Still Another Day’ )
So the accidental sufi says ‘I am just a thought. That can only be met through a thought’ 🙂 http://youtu.be/lxFaUIxezk
( Photo from the Internet for illustration only )