A poem from my dear friend and mate in the work of life, Tim Merry. Written on a napkin on our back porch – after a week of good work in friendship, music, forest walks and talks, delicious food and a touch of apricot wine.
www.myrgan.com
What would I be without my story?
Free
Of the whispering mind
Cop in the head
Put to Bed
Not even snoring
Just Breath
Left
Who would I be without my stories?
Like a tree
Without the rustle of the leaves
Winter mind
Kind
Aligned
To the Inside
Inside the inside
A space so wide
It has no centre
Because it is centre
Thanks Tim!