Monday 25 June 2012

On Death

It’s hard to meditate on the tenderness of death while the body’s secret mind keeps blood surging. It’s a bit like the white froth on some distant wave – soft, majestic, impersonal. But it will roll near, and when it does, I wonder if I’ll hear a giant wave whispering my name? Will it feel tender, still?

1 comment:

engemi said...

This touched me deeply, probably because today I feel somewhat close to those waves - maybe the cliffs' beautifully transgressed, thanks

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