More poetry…
I found some poetry written by a friend of mine in my library of old notepads, the following poem is by Eric Odegaard (posted without permission.)
To my love
I am a boatman.
I sail. I know there
are many boats
yet there is only
one sea.I am a flower.
I bloom. I know many
people enjoy my smell,
but there are those
who do not.I am a place.
I exist. I know that
people live in me,
but most are
somewhere else.I am a man.
I love. I know that
I love many people,
yet I cannot love
them all.You are the boat I sail.
You are the person who enjoys my smell.
You are the person who lives in me.
You are the person I love.
And another, but I never learned who the author was:
To laugh is to risk appearing a fool
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental
To reach out for another is to risk involvement
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self
To place your ideas, your dreams before the crowd is to risk their loss
To love is to risk not being loved in return
To live is to risk dying
To hope is to risk despair
To try is to risk failureBut risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love … live.
Chained by his attitudes, he is a slave; he has forfeited freedom.
Only a person who risks if free.
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