The last words of the dying, or the first of the dead.
Thought for the day:
"The snow has gone from Chung-nan; spring is almost come.
Lovely in the distance its blue colors, against the brown of the streets.
A thousand coaches, ten thousand horsemen pass down the Nine Roads;
Turns his head and looks at the mountains,--not one man!" - Po Chü-i (772-846)
That poem stirs something deeply within me. One must open one's eyes before the dawning can begin.
For the first time in years, I am taking to the road alone, to lie at the edge of a swamp, amidst alligators. My thoughts will slow to the rhythm of rain in Florida.
Herbie is a new dad. Congratulations!
Have an expansive twilight!
Thought for the day:
"The snow has gone from Chung-nan; spring is almost come.
Lovely in the distance its blue colors, against the brown of the streets.
A thousand coaches, ten thousand horsemen pass down the Nine Roads;
Turns his head and looks at the mountains,--not one man!" - Po Chü-i (772-846)
That poem stirs something deeply within me. One must open one's eyes before the dawning can begin.
For the first time in years, I am taking to the road alone, to lie at the edge of a swamp, amidst alligators. My thoughts will slow to the rhythm of rain in Florida.
Herbie is a new dad. Congratulations!
Have an expansive twilight!
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