what if those aliens
who designed giant
animal shaped runways in Peru
were not from other
planets, but just us
before we forgot we
were made of spirit?
…Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:…
-William Wordsworth, from Ode: Intimations of Immortality
Ahh, ’tis all a re-remembering.
I’ve been told that one Native American story says that we receive the cleft on our upper lips from the Spirit placing a finger over our mouths when we’re born, and telling us, “Shhh….”
Ed, your comment is pure poetry. Thanks for Wordsworth which makes even better poetry paired with a Native American story.
What if? I love the thoughtfulness of it…
Reblogged this on Gooda-TREK.