So many things can wait.
The dust can wait and the cobwebs.
The drain under the fridge can wait,
but children cannot wait.
Now is the name of the game.
Holy Now!
Blue green soul rising,
old men dancing with lizards,
recognizing the mighty in all things.
This quiet dark holds us together,
new friends and old,
sitting on the soft earth,
spirit journeys stretching out
like unexplored maps.
This article appears in Occupy Broadband.
beautiful poem, thanks