"When I open my wallet
to show my papers
pay money
or check the time
of a train
I look at your face

The flower`s pollen
is older than the mountains
Aravis is young
as mountains go

The flower`s ovules
will be seeding still
when Aravisthen aged
is no more than a hill.

The flower in the heart`s
wallet, the force
of what lives us
outliving the mountain

And our faces, my heart, brief as photos.

--- John Berger.

R.I.P.

The mountains appear to be solid, are really flowing and will one day float straight out of here ( an old Qur'anic theme). Nothing really lasts. Capstones shift. Even power, which to the untrained eye, seems to be stable, immovable, will fall away and crumble. Which is why resistance and hope must go on.

What lasts for longer is invisible...the spirit, love, friendship. The force- and it isn't a mechanical force- lives through us. By that, he means, we do not possess it. It comes our way, if we're lucky, if we're receptive to it. 

What is the flower in the heart?

Who is the flower...

Our own lives, our own heart, as hard as stone or as ancient as the golden pollen. A receptacle for the appearance of an image, a face. Mine or yours?