I drive by old houses no longer lived in, and my imagine goes wild. I picture the house full of activity in its heyday.
I wonder if maybe there is a soul…and maybe it lingers after the house is abandoned.
This poem haunts me, but in a good way.
j.

A thought-provoking piece. It reminds me of mortality of men. As a momento mori. Well done Adagio! “)

Thank you, M.E.

Thank you.

I have thoughts, doubts, longings to figure out exactly where my artistic side came from…no poets in our family tree…if there were, they all fell out centuries ago.
Nice write.
You make us question ourselves.
j.

Thank you.

Lives come and go, some invisible, some sadly hiding in the nowhere found easily. But, even more live on in special places made by self-made dig-deep offerings – OR, are globally awarded in forever continuity.

The eggs. Hatching and bringing a new community of thought to the world, One of peace and love.
If the yoke is strong enough…we need the young folks to stand up for what’s right….leave their cell phones and facebook and other social media behind….and place eggs of love in the basket.
j.

Thank you.