In the fall nature releases its attachment to the fruits of its last growing season. Flowers wilt, and leaves fall. Rather than an ending, it is the necessary preparation for new growth. During winter, the outer visible parts of the plant appear dormant, but beneath the surface, the plant is developing the root system and nourishment for manifesting a new level of growth. In the spring the budding flowers and unfurling leaves spark a joyful remembrance of the beauty and wonder the new season holds in store. When summer comes, there is time to enjoy the fruits of those seasons of preparation.
The seasons of your soul mirror these cycles of nature, and just like in nature, you do not get to linger forever in the sweetness of summer. You must let go of your attachments to where you are and prepare to move onward. These are the cycles of your spiritual growth.
If you're interested in reading my poetic diary, ranging from fourteen years of age until culminating at fifty years of age with my poem titled "The Seasons of My Soul," click on the book image. It is available in both paperback and Kindle.
I wouldn’t begin to pretend that these poems have any value to the literary world because I’m quite sure they don’t. They were simply my way of expressing the emotions that were overtaking me at different times in my life and yet filling me with wonder at other times.
I won’t apologize if their structure falls short because these “poems” were my safety valve—the outlet that let me release my unproductive emotions. They were also the way I was able to express my personal growth when those around me did not see things the same way I did. So, I bless them. . .warts and all!
The seasons of your soul mirror these cycles of nature, and just like in nature, you do not get to linger forever in the sweetness of summer. You must let go of your attachments to where you are and prepare to move onward. These are the cycles of your spiritual growth.
If you're interested in reading my poetic diary, ranging from fourteen years of age until culminating at fifty years of age with my poem titled "The Seasons of My Soul," click on the book image. It is available in both paperback and Kindle.
I wouldn’t begin to pretend that these poems have any value to the literary world because I’m quite sure they don’t. They were simply my way of expressing the emotions that were overtaking me at different times in my life and yet filling me with wonder at other times.
I won’t apologize if their structure falls short because these “poems” were my safety valve—the outlet that let me release my unproductive emotions. They were also the way I was able to express my personal growth when those around me did not see things the same way I did. So, I bless them. . .warts and all!
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