These are some scans of my journal - a drawing and poem from Bali, a little bit of Rumi and a Rainbow Losikeet.
This is the poem written out:
Suddenly there is an afternoon to breathe in
a moment to take up and treasure
a crack in the momentum
and a call to be silent.
My instinct is to fill the gap -
to reach a depth of thought or understanding
to make it worth my while.
I cannot waste this stillness laid before me -
so rare and expensive.
But i feel no shifting in my soul
or motion of my mind.
I cannot stop the hour from floating by -
unreached and insignificant
leaving me older and further from my ideal.
I cannot force it to stay or make it give false memories.
This hour will not be written in history books.
But i can still sit
and somehow make the most of it.