Living Well

I wonder if Rumi
had notebooks of poems.
How was his huge treasure
of poetry so lovingly preserved?

A plight of the creative
is what to do with the
outpour. We fill rooms with
our words, paintings, music
that mostly melt away with time.

A few years ago, I burned a
lifetime of journals. I decided
that nothing I had experienced was of
value for anyone else for we
each must discover for ourselves.

Now I have a library of poetry.
People say, “Create books,” but
for what? Has Rumi, whose poetry
I love, changed my life in any
way? Have the poems of mine been
a source of inspiration?

Every day brings beautiful sunrises
and sunsets. I see them and find comfort
and awe at their consistent beauty.
God creates every day and has not a
single museum or library. Perhaps we,
too, are meant to add our renderings

The wings of birds
are perfectily balanced,
allowing the bird to soar.
Such is the duality of life,
a delicate balance required for
us to be in perfect harmony.
Let your tears be equal to your
laughter, both are needed.
Balance your masculine force
with your nurturing divine feminine.

In all things, strive for this
harmony, knowing the yin and yang of all.

As I lie down to sleep,
I sigh in contentment
for another day well lived.
This day has been so rare;
there exists no other the same.
How marvelous that life unfolds
in never ending patterns that
fill me with the sheer joy of
being alive.