The Contemplative

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The Contemplative

In the whisper you find yourself
The contemplative being within,
seemingly fragile, needing peace;
Always striving for space.

In a world where storms roar,
created by nature and mankind
We need to find a temple of calm
where clamour can’t rule.

With no haste, the room is there
bide your time within.
Rising with the morning rays,
The Contemplative smiles.

It was always there, the space,
Let the wonder of light and colour
be the decoration of your special room.

It is within you and me,
within all who want to see,
Access the depth of ourselves
Of nature and life in all form.

© miriam ivarson


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Harmony and Discord

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As I fold and seal the poem below
into a turquoise bottle and toss it in the sea,
in the ocean that carries our words and thoughts;
I make a wish that it will reach some of you.

Please know, I now feel there is another poem,
a poem about how nature remained,
so true to its ancient self.
All the wonders of strength were there.

The sea, the bluest sky, the shimmering rocks.

Yes, I will tell you about that – another time.

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Harmony  and  Discords

Was it so simple then
when I was a child, I ask myself;
Waking to the seagulls sounds,

as they happily greet the morning
soaring and sailing high above.
My heart feels lonely. lost,
there is so much sadness around;

Where once I felt simplicity and joy.

So many worries to attend
so much sorrow in many hearts;
I just wanted to sit by the sea
By the old cafe on the wooden pier;

Recalling the simplicity of life.

I listen to discords and angst,
my heart cries and I cannot sleep,
fearing the dark valley, these whipped up storms

Where is the harmony,
The simple belonging to life.

© miriam ivarson

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