Some plan it, measure it, apply precision
But is it beautiful enough?
Has it flourished?

Some hurl rainbows
And surf their abandon
Reaching for nirvana before the wave breaks.

Some can’t find it.
So they pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick
They grasp at a starting point
But like the end of the sticky tape,
They fear it could disappear in a moment’s panic.

It’s fragile, this thing we are searching for.

So

Apply your method, claim your path.
And walk those well-worn tracks yet again….

Because
The light will always shine a different way,
The wind always carries a new suggestion,
And your heart will always settle on a fresh idea.

You can only find the way home, if you go your own way.

Path

If you liked this read:
Down the pub c.1985
Tree
Relax and breathe

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