Poetry is for the living,
but death
is what grants it meaning,
making time so fleeting
and love so precious
that even poetry
can scarcely
touch it.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
Poetry is for the living,
but death
is what grants it meaning,
making time so fleeting
and love so precious
that even poetry
can scarcely
touch it.
Yesterday, we released our first picture book through Amazon’s self-publisher platform. Self-publishing is a rewarding, yet terrifying experience. It’s a great honor to see your work bound into a book and celebrated by your followers, but it’s also a moment of stark vulnerability as you rely upon the people around you to decide the fate of your piece (because you don’t have a giant publishing house who recreates fate daily).
This book was created as an uplifting story for kids and a novelty for adults. If you love doggos, think we need a stream of light in this dark chapter, cherish humor, or love supporting small authors, please share, reblog, and order our book. Thank you for helping us to reach bookshelves everywhere.
You don’t just rise in the morning with your character; it’s formed and reformed every day, pressed together, pulled apart, and recreated by your
company
connections
music
moments
books
browsers
paths
and poisons.
Thunderstorms
and hurricanes
deceive us
when they change course,
letting us believe
that disaster can
weave around us,
when death is a tempest
that will not miss.
Stress is like ocean water:
you either
harness its energy
to move beyond boundaries
or you
flounder, paralyzed,
beneath its enormity.
Perhaps,
instead of seeking
a partner
with a particular skill
or quality,
we should
pursue a person
who is full
of effort,
raw energy
for life
and love.
May our work
motivate our recreation,
and
may our recreation
inspire our work.
Now that the world is silent for a moment, may we again hear the cries of the wind, the whispers of the trees, and the cadence of the river, all, and at once, singing the song of their Creator, the source of trembling power and unexpected life.
I cherish
your
grey hair
and
all of your
signs of living,
because they
reveal
moments, days, years,
that you
have grown
into your own
essence,
all the time
becoming
the most
radiant
thing
I’ve ever
known.