finals week: stop
i stop, not often enough, i stop to long for more sky. blue sky and deep sky and fluff with white sky. gazing up, fixation.
i stop to bury my face in bushes of bountiful bloom. i stop, not enough, to hug you and you. i stop, not enough to smile wide or to ask how you really are. i stop, not enough.
i would stop, more often, for puppies and for musicians and for quiet men with stories in their eyes. i would stop, more often for sunshine coming down- rarity, here- for dew on the grass and for joy pit-stops at soaking up the available beauty.
i should stop more. i go so much. i go towards good grades, towards on-time, towards good decisions, towards studying enough. i go towards a fast pace (near-run, sometimes) and i dash around people like we're racing to our destinations.
we aren't racing, at least we shouldn't be. in my mind, i guess we are. my elbows are always ready and if you don't appreciate me or hold the door for me? i'll push you down.
i need to stop more.
being sometimes involves resting completely. being/resting/gazing/alive. to be. still.
somehow in the midst of this supposed-to-be-so-stressful week, i have stumbled upon so much perspective. i have stopped- seen that live flashes on around and though it seems like all rests upon the six remaining items to be graded-- it doesn't. life goes on, whether or not i make five pretty little A's.
i want to stop a lot more, care a lot less- about the meaningless things- and care a lot more about the ones worth caring for. like you. you who have eyes to see and a mind to comprehend-- you have a soul and therefore, we are so very alike already.
i want to stop to care about your soul... more than i care about international microeconomics because when i stop to think about it, it's not so much about anything as it is this ideal i have of control. i think god probably laughs quite often at my far-too-frequent attempts at control and his purpose is to eventually and ultimately teach me how i really don't have control at all.
stop to release false busyness which is really just building up of self-importance. stop to care about your deep deep eyes, your heart, your tears, your cares. stop to think about my own story. stop to write. stop to read.
stop to gaze.
stop to hug and love and PRAY.
i stop, not often enough.
i stop to bury my face in bushes of bountiful bloom. i stop, not enough, to hug you and you. i stop, not enough to smile wide or to ask how you really are. i stop, not enough.
i would stop, more often, for puppies and for musicians and for quiet men with stories in their eyes. i would stop, more often for sunshine coming down- rarity, here- for dew on the grass and for joy pit-stops at soaking up the available beauty.
i should stop more. i go so much. i go towards good grades, towards on-time, towards good decisions, towards studying enough. i go towards a fast pace (near-run, sometimes) and i dash around people like we're racing to our destinations.
we aren't racing, at least we shouldn't be. in my mind, i guess we are. my elbows are always ready and if you don't appreciate me or hold the door for me? i'll push you down.
i need to stop more.
being sometimes involves resting completely. being/resting/gazing/alive. to be. still.
somehow in the midst of this supposed-to-be-so-stressful week, i have stumbled upon so much perspective. i have stopped- seen that live flashes on around and though it seems like all rests upon the six remaining items to be graded-- it doesn't. life goes on, whether or not i make five pretty little A's.
i want to stop a lot more, care a lot less- about the meaningless things- and care a lot more about the ones worth caring for. like you. you who have eyes to see and a mind to comprehend-- you have a soul and therefore, we are so very alike already.
i want to stop to care about your soul... more than i care about international microeconomics because when i stop to think about it, it's not so much about anything as it is this ideal i have of control. i think god probably laughs quite often at my far-too-frequent attempts at control and his purpose is to eventually and ultimately teach me how i really don't have control at all.
stop to release false busyness which is really just building up of self-importance. stop to care about your deep deep eyes, your heart, your tears, your cares. stop to think about my own story. stop to write. stop to read.
stop to gaze.
stop to hug and love and PRAY.
i stop, not often enough.
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