young body. old soul.

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Her feet bare more of that of ninety years,

They are more weathered than any explanation can offer

They are feet that have walked this earth many many times,

I know this to be true.

She is remembering rather than learning,

Her purpose is strong like a ferocious wind,

She is going to move through this life at tremendous speed, I’m not sure we will be able to keep up, that is alright.

She will touch people, move them, to pay attention like she has done since the day she was born, this is her gift.

She was born with old feet,  and blessed with an old soul.

 

and I know that..

And I know I am deathless.

I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenters compass.

..I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,

I see that the elementary laws never apologize. I recon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by after all.

 

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 I am of old and young, of the foolish as much the wise,

Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,

Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,

Stuffed with the stuff that is coarse, and stuffed with the stuff that is fine,

One of the great nation, the nation of many nations- the smallest the same and the largest the same,

All goes onward and outward….and nothing collapses,

And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

My faith is to the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths.

Enclosing all worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern,

Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years ..

 

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass