| Cindy: | Look at this art work closely. Does it of represent life or death? |
| Don: | Both sides of the same coin - connected inextricably. |
| Cindy: | Fair enough, but why write crap like this about touching? |
| Aiko: | Yeah, if the author was really doing it, would he need poetry? |
| Don: | Does it matter? Every poem is a skeleton in some sense, but at times the graveyards of literature are interesting. |
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Touch of LifeLearn to touch others like wind touchingpine trees - trusting your intuition and capacity to perceive Touching is a sacrament - a sharing of primal needs The air touches us through each breath and earth touches the soles of our feet The stars touch us constantly with their radiance and every moment we are embraced in ways unseen Don't let civilization turn you into an untouching, uncaring being - for those afraid to touch become isolated and to them all creatures seem alien and existence itself illusory Tethered by cords of rationality to a universe which ultimately doesn't care they free-fall towards oblivion finding entropy everywhere Reach out and affirm the world you see - never be afraid to touch the core of being Manifest caring through each deed and if others seem like a desert, water them gently: The raindrops of touch will penetrate hard skins of belief and with faith barren soil embraces abundance eventually |
Hear the author read this poem.
[***K /.MP3 file]