Grateful Dead

thank for that :)
https://mybk-experience.onl https://www.mc-d.uno/mcdvoice/

Each moment individual separate, never touching.
A space, a breath, three sneezes, and a bless you.
Pristinely rough, the challenge is that
Nothing ever happens.
Free and clear, nothing touches you,
Nothings touching me.
In golden light fading, we watch
Our faces becoming drawn,
Revealing parents and lizards and tigers inside.
The heart is like cement.
Oh so easy to get harder and harder,
Until the only solution is to
Take a sledgehammer to it,
And smithereen it back into tenderness.
Ive missed being here, its good being back,
Although being forced back into the
Digi world was unwelcome, here I is back in it.

Lots of love, be strong and upright for the people
Around you to be supported by.

Andy

Thanks for that. Really hit home with a lot of stuff I've been going through. Now pass the Kleenex box please.

Made me cry like a baby too. Beautifully written life experience.
And Congratulations on your 40 yrs with your loved one! That's no small feat.

Take care
Joe

Hey Man, kiss off. First thing in the morning, not even a cup of coffee in me and now you got me crying like a baby. I don't need this.

Thanks, that was really nice. Very true. This September will mark 40 years with my wife. Talk about a long strange trip :-)

Not a poem, but beautiful nonetheless:

In the seventies, you and I called it "having sex" or just "doing it," and we did it wherever and whenever we could: in the shower, on an air mattress in a tent, in saggy beds in cheap motels.
Somewhere in the eighties it became making love. Our honeymoon lovemaking was the best ever: in a real bed with no one to interrupt us. We were going to do this forever. In the nineties we did it on a schedule: calendars and thermometers and keeping track. After the babies, making love meant keeping promises. It was as routine as you putting on the suit and tie and shaving every morning, and me doing laundry and having dinner on the table every night.
The babies grew up and left home.
After 2005 making love was you saying I was beautiful even though I was vomiting and bald, and my skin was gray.
In 2008 it was your turn. Sex was out of the question. Making love was me changing dressings and cleaning the drainage tubes as gently as I could.
By 2012 making love was just this:
lying beside you, our hands touching knuckle to knuckle;
smiling and crying; letting the morphine do its job;
saying good-bye.

- T.M.