maggie and milly and molly and may
Went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
This post reads like a diary entry through images. I have never used Lillian and Alice as a platform to discuss intimate thoughts and maybe I can blame this sudden urge on the nostalgia of seasons changing or simply, over-thinking. Either way, something is missing and even though I can't put my finger on it, I am on a mission to find out.
I have been feeling unclear about life and what it has in store for me. Do you ever wish that you had four more hours in a day or that you didn't need sleep in order to function? That you weren't racing against the clock? That if money weren't such an important part of existence that you would quit your day job and enjoy every moment of daylight and moonlight? Or work as a philanthropist? That there was more time with family? Friends? It's good to examine our lives, right?
Now, as we welcome in November, with leaves drifting to the ground and rain sliding down the window, I turn to months past for guidance....
"it's always ourselves we find in the sea"
Thank you, E.E. Cummings, for reminding me of just that.
Have a thoughtful, soul searching weekend,