stef_tm: Stef looking to her right suspiciously (Default)
Give me my small ritual
This benign vice
Fueling wage slaves
Keeping pickers burdened
Bean after bean
One cup and a moment of clarity
Begin the day.

(c) stefanie harvey 2012
stef_tm: Stef looking to her right suspiciously (Default)
(from a FB update)

In the last twenty-four hours I have heard news of loss and portends of loss.



I find poems soothing and this poem today fulfilled its role



We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths

by Philip James Bailey



We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:

Lives in one hour more than in years do some

Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.

Life's but a means unto an end; that end,

Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God.

The dead have all the glory of the world.

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