Eyes that sing

What I seek I rarely find

it really is a curiosity!

I thirst for things I can’t define

and when I drink I don’t find wine.

It slips within and causes ache

and then I wish I hadn’t tried.

 

The promise always seems alive,

I see it clearly before my eyes.

I reach to touch, the vapour goes –

now I feel the fool once more.

I want to hide; I yearn to slide,

beneath my chair and simply die.

 

Yet still the thirst won’t go away.

It is so real, it cries for more.

There’s so much water within an ocean,

yet none of it will answer thirst!

Can there be thirst without some drink,

that satisfies and doesn’t stink?

 

And so I wander seeking rest,

to drink – to find inheritance.

To grasp and hold the things that thrive,

that flourish in a heart that’s live.

I know this thirst can still be quenched,

’cause eyes that sing are satisfied!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Beautiful culture

Anyone can detect that which is less than ideal. My eye is amazing at picking out the detail of imperfection – whether in what should be a straight line, or a “perfect” smile. Culture trains us to discern nuance. What is stylish; what is acceptable: what is beautiful; what can I do without?

The reality is that I have been sculpted to gravitate towards those who fit the mould labeled “valued”. It takes grit to turn my heart from superficial fickle appearances to the undiscovered beauty that awaits discovery behind eyes that lie empty.

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An apple seed contains the future tree in all its glorious splendour. Interestingly, it bears no resemblance to its promise. The tree’s tremendous complexity and fruitfulness is encoded within its depths. This future reality is difficult to perceive and identify. I value a seed for what it will be as much as for what it is. The two are vitally linked.

A seed planted and nurtured opens the power of a harvest that is well worth waiting for.

Beautiful culture that is rich and rewarding requires my investment in the seeds of those around me. Unless we cultivate the treasure of each other, we will consume our inheritance in the desperation of the moment. What we create is a barren desert for those who come after us. All the while I criticized the imperfection of seeds that were never given the chance to germinate!

Author – Bill Tidsbury