Stirring the Embers

Blow on a dead man’s embers and a live flame will start. ~Robert Graves

Nothing is ever really lost, nor can be lost,
No birth, identity, form; no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space; ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold; the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;  ~ Walt Witman

It’s a funny thing about life: if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it.
~W. Somerset Maugham

It is with a handful of scattered quotes that I start this monologue.  Having reached into the ashes of failed plans, charred expectations and grey dusted aspiration, I clutch at a  few kernels of hope only to feel the embers burning  my palm.  This is an act of sedition.  A refusal to bow down, to resign to the practical, to lower my head in surrender to  the powers that be.

Instead I will cup my hands, blow on these embers and see what new flame will come to life. 


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