Being Mortal

Being Mortal – A Bubble in a Stream

This is haiku by somebody who knows what he is doing

after the weight
of a hiker’s boot
the tormentil springs back

This is more like a tanka, which is an older form than haiku,
by somebody who doesn’t know what she is doing!

everywhere and nowhere
here and gone
Oh my aching bones

Thought I’d share anyway.

The merit of this post is offered to a man who took his life yesterday and for his parents. _/\_

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7 thoughts on “Being Mortal”

  1. Thank you for your recent postings.
    As for poems, here is one that resonates deeply with me. It is by Angelus Silesius:

    The rose is without why,
    It blooms simply because it blooms.
    It pays no attention to itself,
    Nor does it ask whether anyone sees it.

    Sending you much love and warm wishes,

  2. So many times I didn’t know what I was doing. And,
    The surprise of gratitude from someone who thought I did.
    Thank you for the gracious nature of your post.
    In gassho,

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