Day: November 14, 2025

The art of doing nothing

The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn
To sit and daydream till we get new thoughts
It’s immoral, say the Puritans reformed

Harder to accept the need to mourn
So many ancient losses strip our hearts.
The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn

The feelings  that seemed hardest to be borne
We could have looked for maps or sought out charts
It’s immoral to seek help  so we’ve been told

Here we weep when our skinned hearts are torn
We fear we may have forfeited love’s balm
The art of doing nothing’s hard to learn

We only know our self when love is born
In another’s eyes we find our calm
Reject the harshness of old Luther’s forms

Fear not death, for there are strong wide arms
God is not a monster who wills harm
The art of doing nothing will prepare
For when we meet one day his welcome stare

Ancient hands leave copies in the Cave

Photo by Matheus Viana on Pexels.com

Human hands 7,300 BCE Wikipedia

I can’t get just one photo… technical problem

They knew what we moderns learned this year
When deprived of company and touch
We need to feel, we need the hands that care

As cats will sleep in heaps beside the fire
I would warm,caress you, humans must
Cats knew what we humans learned this year


I remember when you brushed my hair
When you held me close your skin was musk
We need to feel, we need the hands that care

Even touching gently your skin bare
Gave me solace, made my world seem just
Cats knew what we humans learned this year

Crying babies,nursing them’s a prayer
But refugees lie restless in the dust
We need to feel, we need the hearts that care


They knew what we moderns learned this year
When deprived of company and touch
We need to feel, we need the hands that care

Poor in money, yet in loving rich
Glue my broken heart up lest it cracks
Ancients knew what moderns learned this year
We need to feel, we need strong hands that care

Day shall come again

When red sun drops and cooling night rolls in
Darkness masks both danger and our vision
Ancient minds fear day won’t come again
Courage for the delicate seems thin.
We wrestle with our indecision
When low sun drops and a new night rolls in
But now , fresh stricken by the dread of sin
Who protects us from derision?
Our ancient mind fears day won’t come again
As we sleep we’re entertained within
Bold dreams squander all illusion
When sunset comes the darkest night rolls in
In  dreams we see  new life  arising
Then fancy turns to full communion
The ancient mind dreads day won’t come again
Despite such angst, our sacred life began
When sperm leaped up in proud confusion.
When deep sun dropped and a new night rolled in
All human hearts cried,Day shall come again”