Significant Soil

 I am such a devotee of T.S. Eliot that I know the initials stand for Thomas Stearns. I admittedly confess that at times I have no idea what he's talking about. And yet, the way he says it, leaves me begging for more. He leaves me breadcrumbs leading into the forest deep. And then he leaves me there. Where I never knew I belonged. Alone and wrapped in the mystery. He mentions at times, the wild roses, that "have the look of roses that are looked at." And he points out "the life of significant soil".

"The life of significant soil."

Oh to be such a thing!

Maybe blog posts are like park benches where I can offer breadcrumbs to those who pass me by. Breadcrumbs of the communion of Being. Served with the Holy Water of Deep, ridiculous, impossible and unbearable Hope...The kind of Hope that the falling leaves whisper down through the root of the Trees..

The Hope that feeds the Life of significant soil.

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